


Being Together

by PleaseDontHoldBack



Series: United Front [3]
Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 12:47:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 38,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12169173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PleaseDontHoldBack/pseuds/PleaseDontHoldBack
Summary: The tremendously long epilogue to Getting Back Together Again.  The gang learns how to become friends again as they deal with the aftermath of the gang war.





	1. ASS: A Steadfast Sweetheart

 

“Sorry I’m late,” Swifty said, his smile tight as he pulled out a chair across the table from Sarah.  “I know it’s not the best first date etiquette, but …”  He frowned as he realized the topic he was about to bring up was _also_ bad first date etiquette.  My god, but he was bad at this.  

“Swifty, you don’t have to apologize for being late,” Sarah said quietly, sipping at the coffee she had ordered over twenty minutes ago.  “It was your cousin’s funeral today, right?  I told you that we could’ve met on a different day,” she reminded him.   

Swifty smirked at her.  “And lose you to another guy again?  I learned my lesson after you started seeing Itey; no more wasting time waiting for the perfect moment.”

“Swifty,” Sarah repeated, frowning at her date.  “I appreciate the sentiment, but are you sure you aren’t just using me as a distraction so you don’t have to think about Slingshot?"  She stared at him for a few seconds, waiting for him to speak.  "Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you change the subject every time he comes up,” she finally continued.

Swifty rose an eyebrow.  “You really want _this_ to be the topic of conversation?  It’s our first date.  Can’t we just save this for-”

“No sense wasting time for the perfect moment, right?” Sarah interrupted with a smirk before raising her hand to signal their waitress over.

Swifty sighed before asking for straight black coffee.  He didn’t say anything for several seconds before giving into Sarah’s pointed look with a sigh.  “I haven’t decided how I feel about it yet, to be honest,” he started.  “Mostly it’s just weird.  My whole family’s sad and depressed about it, even though we only found out he was a relative maybe a month ago, and I was the only one that actually went out of my way to meet him.”  He ran a hand through his hair.  “Then there’s the fact that he threatened my life … threatened all our lives, so I’m not exactly unhappy he’s dead.  And I actually saw him die.  … Like, in front of my eyes, and that’s a whole other level of weird I haven’t even really thought about yet.  And … and I guess instead of really being happy or sad that he’s gone, I guess I’m more just … ashamed, I guess,” he said with a shrug.  

“Ashamed?  Why would you be ashamed?” Sarah asked, leaning forward in her chair.  They were both content to ignore the waitress as she came back to set Swifty’s coffee on the table.  

Swifty shrugged again.  “He’s family, you know?  I guess I feel … “ He trailed off has he bit his lip, staring down at the table.  “Not responsible, exactly, but more like … I don’t know.  I guess more like it’s something I need to make up for?”  He looked up to see Sarah opening her mouth, more than likely to refute him, so he quickly pressed on.  “He died a traitor.  That’s a blemish on our family name and a blemish on me, whether Sean feels the same or not.  And no one from my family but me knows exactly what went on or why he’s dead, and I certainly have no intention of telling any of them.  So, that basically leaves it as my duty to make up for his indiscretions.”

“Swifty, what happened wasn’t your fault.  You aren’t responsible for the actions of others.  It doesn’t matter if you’re blood or not.”

Swifty shook his head.  “But it does matter.  At least in my family it does.  Blood’s everything to us.  And betrayal is one of the worst things you can do to someone, so, it’s like …” He shrugged before taking a sip of his coffee.  “I know I need to make up for it somehow," he said confidently before going back to staring down at his coffee.  "I can’t think of how.”

Sarah sighed before frowning at him.  “I really don’t understand how it’s _your_ fault someone _else_ decided to be a douche, even if that person _is_ a family member.”  She held up a hand as Swifty opened his mouth to interrupt her.  “But to each their own,” she continued.  “I’m certainly not going to judge you just because we have a different viewpoint.”     

Swifty smirked at her.  “God damn, you really did grow up, didn’t you?  I’ve kind of been avoiding telling anyone about it, because I was pretty certain they weren’t going to understand.”  He shrugged.  “Not that I don’t think they wouldn’t mean well.  I just didn’t want the argument.  With things like this, you either understand it or you don’t; there’s no arguing someone over to your side.”

“So, what’s the plan then?” Sarah asked, smirking at him as she took another sip of her coffee.  “You have one, right?  Or at least a few ideas?  I don’t think you’d be worried about arguing with anyone about this unless you did.”

Swifty sighed.  “You are too observant for your own good.”  He looked around the cafe before placing his coffee over to the side and leaning over the table to whisper to Sarah.  “I was thinking about offering my services to Spot.”  

Sarah’s eyes widened as she drew back in her seat.  “Offering your services?  As in …”

“As in joining up,” Swifty finished for her with a nod of his head.  “In Slingshot’s place.  To make up for what he did.  If he lets me, anyway.  I haven’t exactly gauged how he feels about me yet.  He’s only ever glared at me, really, but he glares at everyone, so that’s not really any indication of anything.”

“Swifty, you can’t …” Sarah started only to stop and bite her lip.  She stared at the table before glancing back up at Swifty.  “I can’t tell you what to do and what not to do.  I know that, and I'm not going to try.  But I can't date someone in that line of business.  It’s … it’s dangerous, for one.  And illegal for another.  And … “ She shook her head.  “I’m sorry, Swifty, but I just can’t.”

Swifty forced out a hollow sounding laugh as he nodded.  “Right.  No.  I should have figured, really.  It's not like you're wrong for wanting to keep out of it.  Can’t say I’ve ever been dumped before the first date was even over with though.”

Sarah shook her head, back to looking down at the table.  “I’m sorry, Swifty.  I really am.  But I can’t just …”

“You can’t date someone in that line of business,” Swifty finished.  “I understand.”  He fished a twenty out of his pocket and set it on the table before pushing out of his chair.  “That should cover the coffees.  I’m going to get out of here.  I’ll see you later, Sarah.”

Sarah spent the next twenty minutes watching her coffee turn cold.

* * *

 

 “Dude, I don’t know why you want to go into this,” Jack told his friend before shooting a basketball from the three-point line.  He smirked as he heard the swoosh.  “Nothing but net,” he bragged before running to retrieve the ball and tossing it over to Swifty.  

“Brag while you can,” Swifty allowed, walking over to where Jack had stood before he sunk the ball.  “You think I can’t hack it working under Spot?” he asked before shooting the ball and making the basket.

They were playing on a court just a view blocks off from the hotel, on one of Jack’s very rare breaks.  Still, Jack was more than happy to be out and running around.  The basement had become packed out with displaced boys from the Bronx.  Some of them were even sleeping on the floor until Spot could secure them more bunk beds.  It was a mad house, and between the daily training and the literal fist fights for the bathroom, Jack wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand it.  

“I’m not sure I much longer _I_ can hack it, dude,” Jack answered back, grabbing the ball and dribbling it over to the half court line.  “It’s fucking chaos since we took in all those displaced Bronx guys.  We’ve already got people sleeping on the floor.  We don’t have enough bathrooms as it is, and the ones we _do_ have keep getting stopped up.  I feel like all I ever do is train, clean, and go to school.”  He tossed the ball and winced when it hit the rim and bounced out.  

“Says the guy playing basketball right now,” Swifty pointed out before running after the ball.  “And I want to join in order to redeem my family name in the eyes of Spot.  I’m not doing it for the fun time.”

“Well, good, because there are literally zero fun times,” Jack replied has he grabbed the ball Swifty threw his way and made a lay up.  

Swifty frowned at him.  “You think I’m being stupid, don’t you?”

“Never said that,” Jack answered back, dribbling the ball back over to where Swifty was standing.  

“You don’t have to say it,” Swifty answered, crossing his arms.  “I can tell by that look on your face.”

Jack rolled his eyes.  “I’m trying to support you by not telling you what a dumb idea I think this is, dude.  But that’s really hard if you’re going to call me out on it.”  He stopped dribbling in order to look at his friend head on.

“I don’t think this is a dumb idea at all,” Swifty replied, glaring.  “And you’re a shitty person for making me feel like it is.”

“That’s why I wasn’t saying anything!” Jack snapped.  “You wanna do this?  Then fucking do it.  I’m not your mother, dude.”

Swifty immediately dropped his glare at Jack’s yelling.  “Well, why do you think it’s a bad idea?” he asked meekly before regaining some of his composure.  “Not that it _is_  a bad idea.”

Jack rolled his eyes again.  “You think this thing you just started with Sarah is going to hold up to you becoming a gang member?  You think you’re going to be able to balance it out with school?  What about your family?  How do you plan on explaining to them why you’re moving out at seventeen?  And do you even realize the living conditions I have to put up with?  Have you _seen_ where I sleep?  Have you seen my sorry excuse for a bed?”

“This is about _honor_ , Jack.  You’re talking about trivial things,” Swifty replied before shrugging.  “I don’t care where I sleep, or if I’m in cramped living conditions.  I can figure out the school thing.  And I can think of _something_ to tell my mom.  And Sarah already told me she can't accept this,”  He paused briefly before finally shrugging.  “So, I'll never really get my chance, I guess.  And that's fine, because family's more important.”

Jack frowned at his friend.  “Alright, fine,” he said with a shrug.  “Let’s go then.”  He threw the basketball he had been holding over his shoulder and started heading out of the park.

Swifty watched the ball roll away before quickly following after his friend.  “Go where?” he asked.  He shot another look towards the basketball that was getting farther away.  “Aren’t you going to get that?” he asked, pointing.

“Nah, I stole that ball on my way here,” he replied with a shrug.  “Just donating it back to the community.”

“Oh, yeah, okay,” Swifty said, frowning at his friend.  “You know, if you didn’t have a basketball I could have brought one of mine.  And … exactly where are we going?”

Jack threw a look over his shoulder so Swifty could see him roll his eyes.  “You wanna join up, right?  Well, step one is to talk to Spot about it.”   

* * *

“Fuck off,” Spot replied as soon as Jack had explained the situation.  He crossed his arms as he glared at both of them.  “You two have to be fucking retarded or some shit.  I don’t give a fuck who that piece of shit was to you; it’s got nothing to do with you.”

Racetrack leaned forward from behind Spot, putting his chin on his shoulder and wrapping his arms around his waist.  “That means, ‘thanks, but no thanks,’ in case you were having trouble translating out the asshole.”

Spot turned his head to glare even as he leaned back into him.  “It _means_ , ‘fuck the fucking hell off,’” he snapped.  “You don’t have _enough_ worthless people to train right now?  You want to give yourself even more fucking work?” he asked.

“You’re going to turn down a perfectly loyal guy because you think one more person to train is going to overwork me?” Racetrack asked back.  “That’s not a valid reason, and you know it.”

“Good thing it’s not your job to determine if my reasons are valid or not then, isn’t it?” Spot snapped, drawing away from Racetrack and continuing to glare at him.

Racetrack rose an eyebrow at him as he crossed his arms.  “As your second-in-command you don’t think it’s my job to tell you whether you have a stupid idea or not?”

“As my second-in-command I don’t think it’s _your_ job to tell _me_ anything.” Spot growled out.

“And as your boyfriend?” Racetrack replied, matching Spot’s glare.  “Can I tell you I think you’re being stupid as your boyfriend, or is that against the rules, too, _Boss_?”

“Why the fuck do you think you can get away with everything just because I’m fucking you?” Spot snapped.  “It’s not a free pass, you fucking retard.”

“And ruling over a group of orphans in Brooklyn doesn’t make you king of everything,” Racetrack pointed out.  “And stop calling everyone a fucking retard.  It’s offensive as fuck.”

“Then don’t call my people fucking orphans!”

“Calling someone an orphan isn’t an insult, you dumbass,” Racetrack snapped, his voice growing along with his frustration.  

Jack tapped on Swifty’s shoulder and jerked his head toward the hotel.  “Let’s go.  I can show you around,” he offered before walking towards the lobby.  “They always do this shit,” he muttered as he walked farther away from the arguing couple and pushed his way through the lobby doors.  “It’ll be awhile before they remember that other people do, in fact, still exist.”

“Spot and Race going at it again?” Speed asked, coming down the lobby steps and catching the tail end of the conversation.  

“Are they going at it or are they _going at it_?”  Hunter asked from behind him with a giant smirk plastered across his face.  “You know what I’m saying?”   

Jack rolled his eyes as he brushed past them.  “Everyone knows what you’re saying, Hunter,” he replied.  He leaned toward Swifty.  “It’s not exactly a new joke.”

“You know, Spot’s going to flip when he realizes you let a nongang member in here,” Speed warned.  “You remember what happened the last time.”

“You mean when the Bronx gang broke into the hotel and all the nongang members helped save your guys’ asses?” Jack snapped.  He had paused his walk upstairs to turn and glare at Speed.

Speed smirked at him.  “I was talking about after that.  When Spot made you run five miles in one night, and you told everyone that Spot had to be on a killing spree because, clearly, he was trying to kill you.  Remember that?”

“Don’t know how I could forget,” Jack muttered, sending a dark look towards the front doors where he could still see Spot out in the parking lot continuing his argument with Racetrack.  He turned back to Speed.  “Swifty’s about to become a member anyway,” he explained.  “So it doesn’t matter that he’s in here.”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Speed asked, raising an eyebrow at him.  “You think this is my first rodeo or something?  Spot’s not going to let another new person join when we’re filled to the brim with Bronx boys.  We’re over capacity as it is.”

Jack smirked at him.  “That’s not what Racetrack just said.”

“Oh, Jesus we’re doing this again?” Speed asked, rolling his eyes.  

Swifty looked between the two of them.  “Doing what again?”

“I got a c-note on Spot!” Hunter called out, holding up a crumpled hundred dollar bill he had just fished out from his pocket.  “He never loses.”

“Never _lost_ ,” Jack immediately correctly.  “Then he met my dude Race.  Guy’s a goner.”

“Too bad you don’t have any money to bet with, seeing as how you lost it all putting it on Racetrack the last time,” Hunter said with a smirk.  “Know why you lost it?  Because _my_ boy never loses!”

Jack turned to pester Swifty for some cash as Speed frowned at Hunter.  “Dude, don’t call Spot your boy.  Are you being fucking serious right now?  He’s going to strangle you if he hears you talking like that.”

“Oh, please. Spot’s head is so far up Racetrack’s ass-”

“ _Hunter_!” Speed interrupted with a shout.  “Watch it!”

“I don’t understand,” Swifty admitted to Jack quietly.  “Are you betting on whether or not Spot’ll let me join up?”

Jack smirked at him.  “We’re betting on who will win the argument,” he explained, jerking his head toward the parking lot where they were still going at it.  “Spot and Race have been arguing since Racetrack took the second-in-command position.”  His voice picked up volume as he continued.  “Racetrack _always_ wins, but these idiots won’t accept it yet.”

“You’re delusional!” Hunter declared, turning his attention away from Speed.  “Who’s the one down money right now?  Because it certainly isn’t me.”

Swifty looked from Jack to Hunter and then back again.  “Your boy’s got nothing on my boy,” he declared as he took out his wallet.  “I got fifty on Race.”

Just a few hours later Swifty found himself fifty dollars richer and quickly approaching death as he ran suicides across the parking lot with the rest of the new recruits.

“You’re the one who fucking asked for this,” Racetrack kept reminding him every time he lagged behind.  “Don’t turn into a pussy now and make me look bad.”

An eighth of the recruits had already deserted during the training session, and if it hadn’t been for Jack shooting him encouraging smiles and edging him on Swifty couldn’t be sure that he wouldn’t have joined them.  

He collapsed on the ground as soon as Racetrack called a two-minute water break.  

“Sorry,” Jack said, breathing heavily as he sat down beside his friend and passed him a water bottle.  “I guess I should have warned you that whoever wins the argument is usually pretty bitter afterward.”  He shot a look over to a fuming Racetrack and a smirking Spot.  “On the upside, at least Spot’s in a good mood.  You really don’t wanna see him pissed off.”

“ _Wins_ the argument?” Swifty asked, trying and failing to catch his breath.  He held on to the water bottle, but didn’t have the energy to bring it all the way to his mouth.  “Shouldn’t that be the other way around?”

Jack shook his head.  “Nope.  Whatever kind of bartering system they’ve got going on for the arguments must be awful, because I’ve never seen either of them happy to win.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Race this pissed off,” Swifty replied.  “Fuck, he’s acting like he hates me.”

“Don’t let it get to you.  Totally normal.  I swear,” Jack replied before getting back up.  He offered Swifty a hand.  “C’mon, get up.  You really don’t want to be lying on the ground when Racetrack decides the two-minute break is over.”

“A two-minute water break,” Swifty muttered, allowing Jack to pull him up.  “I haven’t even caught my breath yet.”

“I’d embrace it,” Jack said.  “This is going to pale in comparison to whatever Spot decides to do to you for making him lose an argument.”  He smirked at his friend.  “Welcome to the gang, dude.  Told you it wasn’t something you wanted to get into,” he said before jogging to where the other recruits were clustered.

Swifty was pretty sure he’d just signed his own death sentence.

* * *

Two weeks later found Swifty a lot happier and no longer expecting death.  Sarah still wasn’t talking to him in more than one-syllable words (or Jack, either, for that matter), and that had hurt more than he thought it would.  He kept reminding himself that this was more important.  He was making up for his family’s mistakes, and it was his duty to see it through.  

And he had found out that Racetrack had bargained so Swifty could go home at night, which was a huge relief on multiple levels.  Mostly, he was happy he wouldn’t have to think of a lie to tell his parents to justify him moving out before he was even eighteen.  He was also extremely happy that he didn’t have to live in the dingy basement, despite the fact that most of his free time was spent there.  

He was there currently, sitting on the dirty floor as he, Skittery, and Jack all played poker.  Currently, he was down twenty dollars, but he couldn’t bring himself to care too much.  All-in-all, life was pretty good.  His friendship with Jack was the strongest it had ever been, and he was quickly relearning his friendships with Skittery and Racetrack.  (Swifty was pleased to see that, when Racetrack hadn’t just won an argument, he was just as pleasant as he’d always been.)

“I haven’t seen that fat bozo anywhere,” Skittery said, talking about one of the Bronx recruits.  “He defaulted.  I’m sure of it,” he said as he threw three red chips into the pile they were sitting around.  He and Jack had been arguing over everyone that had left since Racetrack had taken up the training for the new recruits.  The most Swifty could gather from it was that he should be glad he had never had to train under his cousin or Spot.  Training under Spot, he kept getting assured, _was_ coming, but so far Spot hadn’t given him a second look since his first day.     

“He was in the cafeteria yesterday, you idiot.  You just don’t pay attention to anyone who isn’t Itey,” Jack pointed out as he matched Swifty’s three red chips.  “Speaking of Itey, just where did you go last night at two o’clock in the morning?  He called and you came running?  You’re so whipped, dude.”

“Speaking of late night frolicks, don’t think I didn’t hear you talking on the phone to David before I left,” Skittery shot back before throwing his hand into the pile of chips.   “I may or may not be whipped, but at least I’m having sex with the person who may or may not be whipping me.”

“Haven’t I already told you that I don’t wanna hear about your and Itey’s sex life?” Racetrack asked from the door.  He held up a hand as Skittery opened his mouth to speak.  “Already got way too much information, there, Skitts.  I certainly don’t need anymore.”

“Amen,” Jack muttered before shooting a smirk to Swifty.  “To what do we owe the pleasure, Boss?  Don’t tell me you lowered yourself all the way to the basement just to hang out with lil ole us?”

Racetrack stuck his nose in the air.  “You may be simple peasants, but as your second-in-command it’s my job to ensure even the most insignificant ants feel important,” he said sarcastically before sitting down next to Skittery and reaching for the spare chips.  “What’s the deal in?”

“Twenty bucks starts ya with two hundred.  Big blinds ten,” Swifty replied.  “This is Jack’s second buy in,” he added with a smirk.  

“He’s about to have a third,” Racetrack shot back.  

“Big talk for a man that walked out of here with an empty wallet last time,” Jack said with a smirk.  

“How’s it going running around with the big boys?” Swifty asked.  “Your mom still buy that Spot’s helping you study?”

“He _is_ helping me study,” Racetrack insisted.  

“Yeah, the male anatomy,” Skittery muttered.  He smirked when Racetrack visibly colored.  

“Watch it,” Race said, frowning at Skittery.  “Spot’ll flip out on you if he hears you talking like that.”

Jack rolled his eyes.  “The dude pressed you up against a wall and started making out with you during the last peace talk with the Bronx when they asked him why he didn’t have a problem with gays.  I don’t think he’s trying to keep it a secret.”

“Not keeping it a secret and allowing it to be belittled are two different things,” Racetrack pointed out.  

Skittery cocked his head to the side.  “I wasn’t belittling it.  I think it’s adorable he’s trying to tutor you when he’s failing basically every single subject.”

“Even gym,” Jack pointed out.  “Which is a feat all on its own.”

“Only because he’s always skipping,” Racetrack defended with a mutter.

“We’re just making sure you’re okay,” Swifty said with a smile.  “Making sure you’re _actually_ studying after you and Spot do whatever it is you two _call_ studying.”

“Think I’m too stupid to know how to study?” Spot asked from the doorway, making Swifty visibly jump before tensing up.  

“Th-that’s not what I meant,” Swifty assured him, his eyes wide.  

Racetrack rolled his eyes.  “Stop trying to intimidate my friends, Spot.  It’s not attractive.”  He leaned back against Spot who was now standing behind him.  

“Stop trying to talk down to me in front of my members,” Spot replied, frowning down at where Racetrack was sitting at his feet.  

Racetrack dropped his hand to look up at Spot, wearing his own frown as he guessed at the reason why Spot had come to the basement.  “I thought you promised you wouldn’t take Swifty out until _after_ the poker match.”

“I did,” Spot answered with a shrug.  “Then I changed my mind.”

Racetrack lept up from his place on the floor and spun around to face Spot as soon as he saw the other man start to smirk.  “You can’t just promise something and then take it back like that!”

Spot rose an eyebrow at him.  “Yes, I can.  You’re the one who insisted on getting your way the last argument.  I’m just collecting on one of the many debts.”

Racetrack continued to glare as he crossed his arms.  “ _This_ is what you're deciding to piss me off with?  You’re just doing this to be an ass.”

“So?” Spot answered before looking over at Swifty.  “Up and at ‘em, slugger.  We’re going out.”  He didn’t wait for a response as he turned around and headed for the door, not sparing Racetrack a second glance.  

“He’s such a dick,” Racetrack griped before sitting back down.  He turned his attention to Swifty.  “Sorry.  I was going to try to warn you about tonight, but no doubt Spot was trying to prevent that.”

“Prevent what?” Swifty asked, looking towards the door and then back at Racetrack with wide eyes.  He had yet to move from his position on the floor.  “Warn me about what?”

Skittery reached over and clapped him on the shoulder.  “Initiation time, friend.   _Way_ harder than Race’s training.”

“Hey!” Racetrack interrupted, indignant.  

“No sense acting like it’s not true,” Jack replied on Skittery’s behalf.  “Sean’s a monster.”

Racetrack sighed as he frowned some more.  “I’ll get some ice packs for when you get back,” he muttered.   __

* * *

“I don’t understand the point of this,” Swifty huffed as he scaled down a building they had just climbed up.  “What’re we doing?”

“What the fuck does it look like we’re doing?” Spot called out, already on the next roof as Swifty was just touching onto the ground from the last one.  

Swifty glared up at him, not bothering to climb yet another fire escape.  He crossed his arms as his chest heaved.  “It looks like I’m wasting my god damn time.”

“I’d say the same thing,” Spot answered with a nod.  “So go the fuck home then," he offered before disappearing from sight, most likely climbing down the other side of the building.  

Swifty blinked once before hurrying after him, strength renewed.  “Is _that_ what this is about?  You’re trying to make me do useless stuff until you finally run me out of Brooklyn?”  

“I’m not _trying_ to make you do anything,” Spot answered, already on the wall of the next building, this time climbing window sills in the absence of any fire escape.  

_And how the hell was that even possible_?

“I am _successfully_ running you out of Brooklyn, judging by the sound of those weak ass lungs of yours,” Spot continued with a smirk.  

“I thought this was supposed to be some intense, hardcore initiation thing,” Swifty said, trying his hardest to catch up to Spot.  “That’s what Skittery said.  Something to test my loyalty.  How is _this_ testing my loyalty?”

Spot crossed his arms and glared down at him from the three-story-building he was sure Swifty wasn’t going to be able to follow him up.  “Why should I test your loyalty when I know you don’t have any?”

“Is this about Slingshot?” Swifty yelled, finally landing on the ground.  He immediately started up the next building without a second thought, fueled by anger.  “I’m trying to redeem my family name!  How dare you think that I’d betray you!  Just because we’re cousins doesn’t mean we’re the same person!”

“Yeah, you fucking idiot,” Spot snapped.  “That’s what I told you the first time you came to me with this stupid as fuck plan.”

“Huh?” Swifty asked, looking up at Spot as his anger disappeared. His hand slipped on a window sill he hadn’t griped properly and his eyes widened as he started to fall.  

Spot dived off the roof after him, quickly snatching Swifty’s shirt collar with one hand and a window sill with the other.  “Watch it, doofus,” he snapped, forcing Swifty close to the wall.  “Climb the fuck down before you fall to your death and Racetrack gets all pissy at me for it.”

“Gee, thanks for the concern,” Swifty replied, rolling his eyes even as his heart clamored in his chest as he climbed down.  Spot didn’t loosen his grip from his shirt collar until his feet found solid ground, a fact Swifty was extremely grateful for.  “I don’t understand why you have such a problem with me joining.  Why don’t you trust me?”

“Why are you so fixated on fixing mistakes that aren’t yours?”  Spot replied, crossing his arms and frowning at the other boy.

“Because it’s my mistake to correct!” Swifty snapped.  “Slingshot was family!  It’s my duty to-”

“And what the fuck do you think shit like that means to me?” Spot shouted right back.  “You think I give a good god damn fuck who your family is?  You think I give a fuck that it was your fucking cousin that fucked me over?”  Spot glowered at him before continuing.  “And, moreover, the only loyalty you’ll ever prove doing shit this way is loyalty to your fucking family.  And I don’t give a good god damn fuck about loyalty if I’m not the one benefitting from it.”  

“I can be loyal to you by being loyal to me family,” Swifty yelled, gesturing wildly now that he finally felt safe back on solid ground.  

“Until your family decides I can go fuck myself, and you betray me just like Slingshot did,” Spot finished, his voice cracking over ‘Slingshot”.  He growled before punching the brick wall they had just climbed down, feeling better despite the fact that it did nothing but make his knuckles bleed.  

Swifty’s eyes widened as he watched Spot start pacing furiously.  “I know how much it affected you,” he said quietly.  “I was there; I saw it.  And it hurt me, too.  Let me-”

“Fuck off already,” Spot snapped, stopping his pacing and whirling around to face him.  “I wasn’t hurt, you fucktard.  I just don’t want your worthless ass anywhere around my gang.  You’re just an extra mouth to feed, and-”

“And I remind you too much of Slingshot,” Swifty finished for him, his voice calm as understanding washed over his face.  

Spot, on the other hand, wasn’t calmed in the slightest.  “You’re a fucking idiot,” he pointed out.  “No, it’s not because you remind me of that assface.  I don’t want you because you have no skills.  What can you do for me?  Fucking nothing.”

Swifty frowned at him.  “I can fight just as good as Jack and Skittery.”

“They’re worthless, too,” Spot replied, his face still fixed in a snarl, though he was no longer shouting.  “Except with them I don’t have to worry about their fucking families tracking them down wondering where they are.”

“You have to worry about that with Racetrack,” Swifty pointed out.  “Probably have to worry about that with him more than anyone else in New York.  His mom’s got some pretty major attachment issues.”

“I fucking know,” Spot muttered under his breath before the snarl finally slipped from his face.  “Racetrack’s … he’s an exception.”

“Because you want to bone him?” Swifty asked, grinning now.  

Spot glared back.  “Because I _am_ boning him,” he corrected.  He looked the other boy up and down.  “And you aren’t my type, so you’re definitely not going to be able to go that route.”

“Spot-”

“Go home, Swifty,” Spot demanded, finally turning away.  “Go back to your family or find a girl to distract you or some shit.  Just stay the fuck out of my gang.”

Swifty blinked at his back, wondering if this was what Racetrack meant when he insisted that Spot was a sweetheart under his thick exterior.  Not that he would ever let Spot in on that little fact about himself.  

* * *

“Sorry I’m late,” Swifty said, his smile tight as he pulled out a chair across the table from Sarah.  “I know it’s not the best date etiquette, but …”  He frowned as he realized the topic he was about to bring up was also bad first date etiquette.  My god, but he was bad at this.  

“Swifty, you don’t have to apologize for being late,” Sarah said quietly, sipping at the coffee she had ordered over twenty minutes ago.  “You were over hanging out with Jack and Skittery again, weren’t you?  I told you that we could’ve met on a different day,” she reminded him.   

Swifty smirked at her.  “Jack insists on hanging out everyday, you know that.  I think he’s afraid he’s going to lose me to you.”

Sarah smiled around her coffee cup as she took a sip.  “Not likely if you’re perpetually late to every single one of our dates.”

“Again, completely Jack’s fault,” Swifty declared, raising his hands in surrender.  

 Sarah sighed as the smile slipped from her face.  “How are things going over there, anyway? You haven't changed your mind about not joining, have you?  Spot's not giving you a hard time about being over there when you aren't a member?”

 

 Swifty shrugged, looking at the ground as he bit his lip.  “Nah, Spot's been pretty cool, honestly."  He frowned.  "Well, cooler than he was in the past.  ...Relatively cool, I guess, is what I should say."  He shrugged again.  "And I guess Spot’s point is finally starting to make sense.”

Sarah cocked her head to the side.  “And what point is that?”

“That I can’t actually be loyal to him if I’m only loyal to him because I’m loyal to my family,” Swifty answered, focused on the coffee cup in front of him.  “And if I was really loyal to my family then I wouldn’t be trying to join the gang in the first place, since that isn’t what they’d want from me.”

“Sounds like a catch-22.”

Swifty nodded, still not looking at Sarah.  “Yeah, Spot said it made his head hurt to think about.”  He gave a slight smile as he glanced up.  “Said anything that was that confusing belonged in Manhattan.”  

Sarah rose an eyebrow.  “Glad he thinks so highly of us.”

Swifty shrugged again, his smile growing.  “He may have also mentioned how big of an idiot I am for spending so much time in Brooklyn when I’ve got a terrific girl waiting for me in Manhattan.”

Sarah smirked at him.  “Swifty, I know Spot well enough to know that he didn’t say _that_.”

“Racetrack translated it for me,” Swifty admitted.  “The exact words may have focused around how I’m a dumbass and you have self esteem issues.”

“Alright, now, _that_ I can believe,” Sarah replied with a laugh. 

Swifty grinned at her.  “Point _being_ , I’m going to lay off Brooklyn and focus on you.  Because I really want to make this work, Sarah.”

Sarah reached for Swifty’s hand that had been resting on the table.  “Swifty,” she replied with a soft smile, “let’s not get sappy, okay?”

 TBC


	2. FUCK: Funny, I Used to Care, Kinda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skittery and Itey. Doing what they do best: fucking shit up.

Skittery stretched out in bed, inwardly flinching when he realized Itey had never gone home for the night.  It wasn’t that he didn’t love the guy (he did; he could admit that now) it was just so  _ exhausting  _ loving the guy.  It was a lot more work than he was used to. 

Itey mumbled in his sleep and Skittery dutifully rolled over and curled his arm around him.  He buried his head in the back of his boyfriend’s neck before greeting him.  “Hey, babe.  You want some breakfast?”

“Bacon,” Itey grumbled, rolling over and burrowing himself in Skittery’s chest.  “And coffee. Eggs. Scrambled. And coffee.”

Skittery smiled.  It didn’t matter how annoyed he was; a sleepy Itey was utterly adorable.  He was so cute he made Skittery want to puke, if he was being honest.  “You realize you said coffee twice, right?”

“Mmhm,” Itey replied, his eyes still closed.  “Want double coffee.”

“What the hell’s ‘double coffee’?” Skittery asked, affection in his voice as he sat up.  “I’m not bringing you two cups of coffee, dude.  I’m the one that’s going to have to wash the cups, you know.”

“No one should ever have to wash shit,” Itey allowed, his eyes still closed.  “Hashbrowns sound good.”

Skittery frowned, but didn’t say anything as he hid his sigh.  “So, bacon, scrambled eggs, hashbrowns, and two cups of coffee,” he repeated back.  Jesus, this was going to be a lot of dishes.  “Alright, coming up,” he said, jumping out of bed and kissing Itey on the forehead.  “Stay here.  I’ll bring it up.”

Itey sat up and blinked as soon as he heard the door click shut.  He looked around him, happy to see that all the bunkbeds around him were empty.  Spot had given Skittery a room with upper-tier Bronx boys, which meant that by seven o’clock in the morning all of Skittery’s roommates were already out training.  

Itey had to admit, he certainly didn’t hate it.  

He looked towards the closed door that Skittery had just left from.  He wasn’t exactly sure how much he didn’t hate  _ that _ , though.  

Skittery had never cooked for him before, and he’d certainly never brought it to him in bed.  Shit, Itey had been lucky if he could talk Skitts into being the one to order a god damn pizza.  But then the break up happened, and Sarah happened, and getting back together happened, and Skitts hadn’t stopped waiting on him hand and foot since.  

It might be nice if Itey knew that Skittery was genuine and not doing everything out of a sense of guilt.  But he could tell how tense Skittery got every time he was asked to do something.

And there was no talking to him, Itey knew that well enough.  Once Skittery had his mind set on something there was no talking him out of it, the stubborn little shit.  

But that just meant that Itey was going to have to break him.  

* * *

Bumlets raised his eyebrow as he walked into the kitchen and saw Skittery on his knees giving Itey a foot rub.  “What the fuck am I walking into?” he breathed out, not able to take his eyes off Skittery.  “Are you okay?”  He put a hand to his head.  “Shit, am I okay?”

“Shut up, Bumlets,” Skittery snapped with a glare, not bothering to look up from his job.  “No one asked for an opinion from the peanut gallery.”

Bumlets frowned at him.  “Are you serious right now?” he asked before looking at Itey.  “Is he serious right now?”

Itey shrugged, glancing down at Skittery quickly before looking back up at Bumlets.  “He’s gone fucking crazy,” he mouthed at Bumlets, his eyes wide as he looked back down at Skitts. 

Bumlets shook his head before walking over and tapping Skittery in the side with his foot.  “Skitts, you’re being fucking nuts right now.  What are you doing?”

“Fuck off,” Skittery answered, still glaring at Itey’s feet as he continued to rub them.  “I’m taking care of my boyfriend,” he scowled.  “Because we’re in love, so go suck a dick.”

Bumlets blinked at him before looking back at Itey.  “What the fuck?” he breathed out, eyes wide. 

Itey lifted his feet away from Skittery.  “Skitts, baby, you know what would be really terrific right now?  That homemade lemonade from that corner store by my house.  You know the one I’m talking about?”  

Skittery looked up with a frown.  “You mean that store all the way in Manhattan?  Who’s lemonade tastes like sugar water?  That the one you’re talking about?”

Itey burst into a giant smile.  “You  _ do  _ know the one I’m talking about!” he gushed.  “I know it sounds crazy, but I have  _ such  _ a craving for it.” 

Skittery clenched his teeth together and sighed out through his nose before forcing on a smile.  “Sure, baby,” he said, getting up and giving Itey a kiss on the forehead.  “I’ll be right back,” he promised before heading out of the room. 

“You’re the best, babe!” Itey shouted at his retreating back.  “Love you!  Thanks!”  He turned towards Bumlets as soon as he was sure his boyfriend was out of earshot.  “He’s gone completely god damn fucking nuts, dude.”

“You’re the one letting him rub your god damn feet,” Bumlets pointed out before pulling a chair out from the table and sitting across from his friend.  “I think you’re both completely fucking nuts.”

Itey put his face in his hands.  “He won’t cut this shit out,” he complained.  “It’s all ‘yes, dear’, ‘I love you, babe,’ ‘Whatever you want, honey’.  It’s fucking disgusting.”

Bumlets smiled at his friend before raising an eyebrow.  “Don’t appreciate an agreeable Skitts, huh?” 

“It’s creepy!” Itey burst out.  “Like, really fucking creepy!  And you can tell he doesn’t mean a word he’s saying because he’s always clenching his teeth or looking like he’s going to kill someone!  I think he’s doing it just to spite me!”

“You think Skitts keeps telling you he loves you to  _ spite  _ you?”  Bumlets asked back, raising an eyebrow.  “I’m starting to think it’s  _ you  _ who’s gone god damn fucking crazy.”

“See?!” Itey exclaimed, pointing at Bumlets.  “It’s working!  He’s making people think I’m fucking crazy!  This is all a part of his plan!”

“You’re the only one making yourself sound crazy, Itey,” Bumlets replied.  “Have you ever thought that maybe he’s doing all this shit because he doesn’t want to lose you again?”

Itey frowned, staring at the floor for several seconds before look back up at Bumlets with a determined face.  “No way.  Not his M.O.”

“Neither is telling someone that he loves them,” Bumlets pointed out, placing his hand on Itey’s knee as he stood up.  “This is all new for him.  You could be taking advantage of him without knowing it.”

Itey’s frown deepened as he watched Bumlets walk away, the guilt flooding into him.

* * *

“I’m totally fucking with him,” Skittery explained with a smile before biting into a cheeseburger.  “Little bastard’s milking the shit out of it, too,” he continued around the food in his mouth.

Blink and Mush shared a look before looking back across the booth at Skittery.  

Blink cleared his throat.  “Didn’t you and Itey just patch things up?  Do you really think it’s a good idea to-” He looked around the restaurant before leaning across the table and whispering, “... fuck with him right now?”

Skittery rolled his eyes.  “Exactly the point!  What the hell do you expect me to do?  Itey wants this romantic fucking relationship or whatever, and that’s not me.  Except I’m not exactly in a position to be making demands, am I?  So, I gotta convince him that a sweet, loving relationship is just as gross and annoying as I know it is, so he’ll stop wanting one, and we can go back to how things used to be.  And that, my friends,” he said, waving around his burger, “is brilliance.”  He took a bite out of it, grinning broadly. 

Blink and Much shared another look before turning back to Skittery. 

Much cleared his throat.  “Skitts, not all relationships have to be the same.  And you shouldn’t have to trick Itey into having the type of relationship you want.  You should talk to him, and-”

“Please,” Skittery replied, pointing at them with his cheeseburger as he rolled his eyes.  “Not everyone can be all sappy and heartfelt like you guys.  Itey and I don’t work like that.  And we certainly don’t sit down once a day with the intention of talking about our feelings.”

Blink sighed as he wrapped his hand around Mush’s underneath the table.  “Skittery, you can have whatever kind of relationship you want, but whatever type you decide to have needs communication.”

“You guys are like broken fucking records,” Skittery griped, finally letting his burger fall to his plate.  “‘Talk to him, Skitts’,” he mocked.  “‘Tell him how you feel, Skitts,’ ‘Prove you love him, Skitts’, ‘Be grateful he forgave you, Skitts’.”  He rolled his eyes.  “I’m getting pretty sick of the whole thing, to be honest.  I can do whatever the hell I want, but I gotta do it in a certain way, right?  Sounds pretty hypocritical to me.”

“Of course you can do whatever you want and however you want to do it,” Mush allowed immediately.  “Blink and I just want to see you happy,” he explained as Blink nodded along beside him. 

Skitery slouched in his chair.  “I’m never going to have what you guys have,” he said in a small voice.  “I don’t think Itey and I will ever be that insync again.”

“You can be,” Mush offered, “but it starts with honesty.  How do you think Itey would feel if he knew you were manipulating him?”

Skittery leaned forward with wide eyes.  “Well, Jesus, he can’t find out, can he?  Do you even know what manipulation  _ is _ ?  You can’t go around just  _ telling  _ people you’re doing it, or it’ll never work!  What’s wrong with you?”

Blink pinched the bridge of his nose.  “The point is to  _ not  _ manipulate him, Skitts.  That’s where the whole trust thing comes in.”

“You guys are so damn confusing,” Skittery snapped through clenched teeth.  “How the hell am I supposed to get him to do what I fucking want if I can’t manipulate him?”

Blink and Mush shared another look before giving a collective sigh.

* * *

“Itey hates the entire thing, so he’s pushing Skitts into getting irritated enough to drop it.  And Skitts hates the entire thing, so he’s pushing Itey into getting irritated enough to drop it.  And neither of them will talk to the other one, no matter what anyone says to them, “ Bumlets ranted, pacing the floor.  “What do you think?” he asked as he turned towards Bam.

“Know what I think?” Spot interrupted, steadily doing pushups while Bam sat cross legged on his back.  “I think you should save this nauseating conversation for whenever I’m not in the room.”

Bam spoke before Bumlets could get out the apology that was already forming on his lips.  “I don’t know, Boss, you’re pretty good at this sort of thing.  Have you noticed how in love Swifty and Sarah are?  Everyone knows you had something to do with that one.  You’re a regular Advice Abbey or whatever the fuck her name is.”

“I don’t know who the fuck you’re talking about,” Spot answered, not slowing down his pushups, “And I don’t want to know.  I just want you to shut the hell up before I break your leg.”

That just caused Bam to smirk.  “If you break my leg you’re going to be the one that’ll have to carry me around.”  He poked Spot in the back of the neck.  “Just add in your two cents,” he encouraged.  “We promise not to tell anyone you opened up.”

“Right, because above all else my greatest fear is how others are going to feel about my opinion on the relationship of two dipshits,” Spot replied sarcastically.  “Fuck off, why don’t you?”

Bam rolled his eyes at Bumlets.  “Not in a good mood today, huh?  You get in a fight with Racetrack?”

Spot immediately stood up, knocking Bam to the floor.  He spun around and glared down at his subordinate.  “I didn’t realize I couldn’t be annoyed anymore unless it somehow involves Racetrack,” he growled before stomping off.

Bumlets stared as he left, slamming the door behind him.  “You really like pushing his buttons, don’t you?” he asked, walking over to Bam and helping him off the floor.

“It’s more fun than it used to be,” Bam answered with a grin.  “He’s definitely calmer than he used to be a year ago.”

Bumlets glanced at the door Spot had disappeared through.  “That’s considered calm to you?” he asked, turning back to Bam and raising an eyebrow.

Bam shrugged.  “I’m not over here with a broken nose, am I?  I’d consider that calm.”  He crossed his arms as he frowned, glancing at the door as well.  “Means it’s only a matter of time before he goes on a vicious rampage because he’s afraid of going soft,” he muttered quietly to himself.

* * *

“Hey, Skitts,” Racetrack greeted once he had come down the basement stairs and stood at the foot of Jack’s bed.  “Jack,” he greeted, nodding his head at where Jack was doing situps on the floor.  He waited until Skittery looked up from his magazine to continue.  “Do you want to explain to me why my boyfriend just threw a chair out our bedroom window?”

Skittery shrugged.  “I’d say it’s because your boyfriend is psychotic and mentally unstable, but I wouldn’t know.”

Jack nodded as he continued his sit ups.  “Sounds right to me.”

Racetrack shot him a glare before placing his attention back on Skittery.  “You have absolutely no idea who he would be so mad at that he would do something like that?”

“Nope.”

“So the fact that when I asked him why he threw a chair out of our bedroom window and he said, and I quote, ‘Fuck Skittery in his fucking pussy-ass face. Fuck’,” Racetrack said in a deadpan voice, “that’s something you know nothing about?”

“Yep,” Skittery answered before turning back to his magazine. 

“Mentally unstable, dude,” Jack piped up again, not slowing down his sit ups. 

Racetrack turned to glare at him before turning back to Skittery and ripping the magazine out of his hands.  “It’s fucking one o’clock in the morning, Skittery,” Racetrack said slowly and quietly through clenched teeth.  “It’s one o’clock in the fucking morning, and I have school tomorrow, and my boyfriend just busted into my room flipping his shit because of something you did, and you mean to tell me you have  _ no idea _ what it is you could have done?”

“No, dude, I don’t,” Skittery answered, enunciating every syllable before snatching his magazine back.  “And that big-scary-gang-member shit isn’t going to work on me.  I used to give you wedgies back in the first grade, man,” he reminded him before burying his face back in his magazine.  “Isn’t my fault your boyfriend’s a psychotic bitch,” he muttered.

Jack snickered from the floor, and Racetrack kicked him in the side before turning back to Skittery and glaring.  “I also broke your nose in second grade, which I have absolutely no problem repeating.”

“Look, man,” Skittery snapped, finally giving Racetrack his full attention.  “I don’t know why Spot’s pissed off at me.  Just like I don’t know he was flying off the handle about Swifty last week, or what Speed did to piss him off so bad the week before that.  The guy’s been becoming more and more unhinged since all that Slingshot bullshit.  Don’t blame me because you can’t reel him in.”

“That’s what everybody’s been saying,” Jack said from his sitting position on the ground, having stopped doing sit ups after Race had kicked him.  “He’s going off the rails because Slingshot isn’t around to put a leash on him.”

Racetrack frowned as he looked between the two of them.  “Don’t act like he’s some kind of fucking dog,” he demanded before sitting down on Skittery’s bed and sighing.  He ran a hand through his hair.  “God damn it,” he muttered, “If he throws my new laptop out a fucking window I am going to break his foot.”

Skittery threw a pillow at him.  “Settle in, bro.  If Spot’s having a rampage in your room than you can sleep here.  Two of these guys defaulted this week, so I’ve got room for both of you until someone new moves in,” he explained, nodding at the only two bunk beds without someone already sleeping in them.

Racetrack sighed again as Jack threw a pair of pajamas at him.  “Thanks guys,” he muttered, allowing everything else to drop for a moment.

He had no idea how he had let himself get to this place.  And, moreover, he had absolutely no idea what the hell he was going to do about it.  As far as he could see he was pretty stuck.  He was second-in-command of a gang and dating the leader of said gang.  That wasn’t something you could quietly walk away from.  His heart sank as he realized what might have brought about Slingshot’s betrayal.  

“What did I get myself into?” he muttered quietly, staring up at the ceiling before sighing again.

“Nothing good, that’s for sure,” Skittery replied unsympathetically before going back to his magazine once again.

* * *

“What the did I get myself into?” Skittery muttered quiet enough that Itey couldn’t hear him from across the table.  They were sitting in a too-fancy restaurant with crisp, white table cloths and a fucking candelabro or whatever the fuck it was called in the center of their table.  Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to put fire between two people who were supposedly in love?  How the fuck was that a smart idea?

‘Congratulations on your love!  Let’s put some fire in between you so you can worry about burning yourselves if you ever have to reach over the table.’

‘Hope you don’t like eye contact!  Because every time you try to make you’ll be looking at big, bright fire!’

Skittery rolled his eyes.  Fancy restuarants were fucking stupid.

Itey adjusted his tie and tried his best not to show that it was choking the life out of him.  His shirt was too itchy, and his pants were too stiff, and and his shoes were too tight, and when the fuck was Skittery finally going to fucking give up and let him win?

Itey smiled at his boyfriend through three-candlestick-whatever-the-fuck-it-was (what kind of idiot put fire between two people that were supposed to be in love anyway?) and tried to appear comfortable.  “I heard the duck here is wonderful,” he said, picking up a menu and hoping his smile wasn’t as tight as he thought it was. 

Skittery smiled back before looking at his own menu and forcing his face to remain impassive.  The duck was thirty-four fucking dollars.  Who the fuck was going to pay for that?  Holy shit, he wasn’t made of money.  “The duck sounds wonderful,” he said instead, “I was thinking about getting the chicken.”  Chicken was cheap, right?  He quickly looked over the menu and had to stop himself from punching something when he realized the chicken was only eight fucking dollars cheaper.  

Itey nodded.  “I bet their chicken is fantastic,” he said while he scanned the menu for the chicken.  He had to stop his eyes from bulging when he found it.  Jesus fuck, how the hell were they supposed to afford this?  There was no way Skittery had that much money on him, and Itey knew he most certainly didn’t.

God damn it, he better get Skittery to admit what a romantic failure he was before they ordered any food, or they’d be stuck scrubbing dishes until the fucking restaurant closed.  “The ambiance here is just perfect, isn’t it?” he asked, taking a sip from his water glass as he peered over at his date.  “Doesn’t it make you just want to put everything out on the table?  Tell me, Skittery,” he said as he set his glass down, “how do you feel about me?  How do you feel about  _ us _ ?”  

Skittery reached across the table making sure to give the candle thing a wide berth as he grabbed his boyfriend’s hand.  “Itey,” he said, making sure to lean around the fire so he could look his boyfriend in the eye.  “I love you.  I don’t pretend to know the future.  I don’t know if we each have a destiny, or if we’re all just floating around accidental - like on a breeze, but I think maybe it’s both.”

Itey tried his best to not squirm in his seat or roll his eyes.  Who the fuck said shit like this?  Destiny?  Floating around on a breeze?  He was fairly certain Skittery was trying to make him throw up. 

“Maybe both is happening at the same time,” Skittery continued, unperturbed.  “I missed you, Itey,” he admitted, giving his boyfriend’s hand a squeeze.  “And if there’s anything you need, please know that I won’t be far away.”

Itey frowned.  There was something similar about what Skittery was saying.  Not exactly like deja vu, but, like, maybe he had heard it somewhere before?  

His eyes widened as he finally made the connection.  He pulled his hand from Skittery’s and leapt from his chair, pointing down at his date.  “You stole that line from Forrest Gump, you fucking bastard!” he yelled, causing half of the restaurant's patrons to look over with wide eyes. 

“Yeah, cause I identify a lot with that movie!” Skitts argued just as loudly, leaping up himself and obtaining the rest of the restaurant's attention.  

“You identify with a mentally disabled multimillionaire in love with a sexually-abused drug addict?” Itey shot back.  “Just admit that you hate this stuff!  Admit that you hate romance!  Admit that you hate this fucking restaurant!  I admit that you don’t want to pay thirty fucking dollars for a single fucking meal!”

“ _ I’m _ paying for it?” Skittery snapped.  “Why the fuck am  _ I _ paying for it when this dumbass restaurant was  _ your _ idea!”

“Excuse me, sirs,” a waiter broke in, holding up his hands in surrender as he looked between the two of them.  “If you could please quiet yourselves; we have guests that are-”

“What?  That are  _ what _ ?” Skittery broke in, turning around to turn all his anger onto the waiter.  “That are trying to enjoy some of your, disgusting, stringy, fucking over priced roast duck?  Or, maybe, they decided to get some of that chicken which they could get for three fucking dollars at the grocery store down the street, but instead would rather come here to pay for something half the size for three fucking times as much.  You have some fucking  _ balls  _ ripping off people who are too fucking stupid to know any better.  I honestly don’t know whether to be impressed or appalled.” 

Itey smirked as Skittery continued with his rant, happy that he seemed to have finally broken his boyfriend.  He was so ready to dump all this romantic crap.  

* * *

Stealth picked open the lock to Spot’s bedroom and let himself in, making sure to close and lock the door behind him.  He glanced across the room where Spot sat in an old armchair, stuffing coming out of one arm while what was presumably a blood stain ran down the other.  He sat and watched his king read, seemingly unaware that he had company.  The fact that he didn’t jump when Stealth finally spoke proved that this wasn’t the case.  “You seem upset.”

“I  _ seem  _ busy,” Spot grumbled, holding up the textbook he had sitting in his lap.  He didn’t bother to take his gaze off the book.  

Stealth was quiet as he let Spot continue for several minutes.  “While I understand that high school statistics may be a riveting subject, perhaps you want to take a break from it in order to think about why you threw my favorite chair out the window last night.”

“You don’t have a favorite chair,” Spot replied, still not bothering to look up from his book.  “And I can throw whatever the fuck I want out of my windows.”

Stealth nodded despite the fact that Spot was too engrossed in the textbook to see him.  He waited until he turned the page to begin speaking again.  “If you don’t find the reason for this aggression you’re feeling you’re going to scare everyone off.”

“Not my job to tiptoe around pussies,” Spot replied flippantly, flipping another page even though he hadn’t read anything since Stealth had walked in.  

“It is your job to protect Brooklyn,” Stealth pointed out.  “And you can’t do that while you’re preoccupied with this.”

“And what the hell  _ is  _ this, exactly?” Spot snapped, finally slamming the book shut and glaring up at the other boy.  

Stealth shrugged and stared. 

Spot narrowed his eyes.  “What the hell are you even doing here?  What’s the point of this?  You want to stop me from scaring off the new recruits?  When the fuck has something like that concern you?  That shit always happens.”

Stealth took several seconds before answering.  “The new recruits aren’t my concern,” he finally said. 

That had Spot standing up.  He threw his textbook onto the now vacated chair.  “The old recruits?” he asked quietly, thoughts of Slingshot pulled to the forefront of his mind. 

“No, my king,” Stealth answered, not allowing a second of silence to pass by this time.  “Your true followers are loyal, make no mistake.  But even some of your loyal followers will have to leave in order to claim their rightful place as King.”

Spot crossed his arms, his glare coming back full force now that it didn’t feel like his chest was in his stomach.  “What the fuck is this?  Lion King?  What the fuck are you talking about?  Speak straight for once in your god damn life.”

“You were only ever meant to rule Brooklyn, my king,” Stealth replied quietly, never dropping his gaze from Spot’s face.  “Your reach in Manhattan cannot remain.  She deserves her own king, and she will not let you take him.”

Spot narrowed his eyes.  “You’re talking about Racetrack.”

“I’m not.”

Spot cocked his head as he regarded his subordinate.  If not Race, then who?  “A Manhattan boy,” he muttered to himself, looking down at the floor as Stealth nodded at him.  He looked back up at the other boy.  “Jack.”

Stealth gave a small smile.  “The king of Manhattan doesn’t belong in Brooklyn, my king.  When the time comes you must let him go.” 

Spot rolled his eyes.  “That’s what you came up here to tell me?  Like I give a fuck about Jack.  That stupid idiot can do whatever the fuck he wants.”  He picked up his textbook and flopped back into the chair.  “I take it the Bronx is free reign though?  Don’t recall you saying anything about taking away its king when I took in its gang members,” he muttered, attention already back on his textbook.

Stealth took several seconds before answering.  “Everyone knows none of those are going to last.  In the meantime, my only concern is making sure you don’t create any unnecessary enemies.”

That made Spot look back up from his book.  “You’ve never been concerned about me creating enemies before,” he pointed out with a frown. 

“That’s because they were all necessary.”

Spot let out a silent snort before going back to his book once more.  “So long as we’re in agreement.”

* * *

“You lost!” Itey insisted loudly as he and Skittery walked down another alleyway on their way back to Brooklyn.  “It is  _ not  _ romantic to get us kicked out of a restaurant!”

“But it  _ is  _ romantic to stand up for the boy I love when I know he’s feeling uncomfortable,” Skittery pointed out.  “Also, thanks to me, we didn’t have to pay, so, technically, I took care of the bill as well.  That’s classy as shit.”

“We didn’t have to pay because we didn’t get to order,” Itey growled out.  “And you were not standing up for me because I was not uncomfortable.  I was perfectly fine to try the ‘disgusting, stringy, fucking over priced roast duck‘,” he quoted, rolling his eyes.  

“I was saving you from bad food,” Skittery pointed out.  “That’s a mark of a good boyfriend.  And I’m protecting you as we go down this long, dark alley.  Another mark of a good boyfriend.”

“Exactly what are you protecting me from?” Itey asked, looking around at the alleyway that, while indeed long, was decidedly well-lit.  “Bad smells?” He spared a look at one of the dumpsters they were walking past.  “Because if that’s the case I don’t think you’re doing a very good job.”

“I’m not sure exactly what it is you want from me here,” Skittery admitted, stopping in his tracks to glare at Itey.  “You wanted me to take you to a fancy restaurant, so I did.  You didn’t want to pay for anything, so I made sure you didn’t.  You said you wanted to go back to Brooklyn, so I’m leading you there.  And you’re still fucking complaining.  Exactly what is it that you want me to do to make you happy?”

“I want you to admit you hate this!” Itey yelled back.  “I want you to admit that fancy clothes make you uncomfortable and expensive restaurants make you feel stifled!  I want you to admit that every time you tell me that you love me inside, you’re cringing, because you hate saying it! I want you to admit that you aren’t a romantic person and-”

“I don’t hate saying it,” Skittery mumbled quietly, staring at the sidewalk as his boyfriend continued to rant. 

Itey snapped his mouth shut, cutting his rant short.  “You .. you what?” he finally managed to croak out as he stared at Skittery with wide eyes.  

The other boy gave an exaggerated shrug and kicked at the ground, still not looking up at Itey.  “I don’t hate saying it,” he repeated, not bothering to say it any louder than the first time.  “I’m just not used to it is all.”

“I like that you don’t hate saying it,” Itey admitted just as quietly.  “But I hate that you don’t argue with me anymore.  And I hate the fancy restaurants.  And I hate this fucking tie.”  He quickly pulled his tie off, throwing it in a nearby dumpster.  “I didn’t even know I  _ owned  _ a fucking tie.”  He sighed as he ran a hand through his hair.  “I guess I’m not very romantic either.”

“Ha!” Skittery exclaimed, jerking his head up to look Itey in the eye as he pointed at him.  “I  _ knew  _ I could get you to break first!”

“You conniving little shit,” Itey replied, his smirk displacing the note of menace in his voice.  “I can’t believe you’re plan was to break me.  That was my plan!”

“You conniving little shit,” Skittery repeated, a full blown smile on his face before he leaned forward and kissed his boyfriend on the mouth. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or appalled.”

“Oh, please,” Itey said, rolling his eyes as his smile grew.  “You’re impressed as fuck and, everybody here knows it.”

“I’m just glad I don’t have to keep cooking you fucking breakfast in bed,” Skittery replied.  “You know the fucking elevator’s been broken for fucking months, right?  And we don’t have a fucking dishwasher.  God damn, I am never doing that shit ever again.”

Itey’s smile dropped from his face.  “Well, I mean, maybe every once in awhile …?  Not everyday, but-”

“Oh?  Liked my breakfasts, did you?” Skittery asked, raising an eyebrow.  “If you want more you better be willing to put that mouth to work, baby.”

“I know,” Itey replied as his smirk reformed.  He slung an arm around Skittery’s shoulders as he started to guide them back onto the main streets.  “I’m well aware of how chewy your bacon is.”

“Dude, not cool.  You do not insult a man’s bacon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all are awesome, by the way. I'm pumped I still have fans even through all the sporadic updates. I'm completely fucking honored that some of you even recommend this story to friends (for real, that's, like, the BIGGEST compliment).
> 
> Thank you. More than once the fans of this story have brought me back when I had lost my motivation. And I'm so happy to have you.


	3. SoB: Sense of Belonging

“You can’t borrow my homework, Specs,” David said as he shut his locker door.  “You’re just going to copy it.”  He turned towards his friend before offering him a smile.  “I can help you with it after school if you want though.  It’s not due until tomorrow morning for you, right?”

Specs nodded.  “Yeah, third period.”  He sighed as he leaned against the lockers.  “I don’t even know why the hell we have to take chemistry in the first place.  It’s, like, math in science form.  It’s awful.”

“I always thought physics was the math in science form,” Jack replied, walking over to the two of them and swinging his arm over David’s shoulders.  “Which Chemistry you taking?”

“Chemistry A,” Specs muttered, glancing at the ground before looked back at Jack.  “It’s basically Chemistry for absolute idiots, and I _still_ can’t get it.”

“I’m pretty sure Skittery’s taking that class, if you want to ask him for help,” Jack said.  “He acts like a moron, but he really knows his stuff.  Racetrack’s making him do homework, and he always gets Chemistry done first.  Top marks, too.”

Specs frowned at Jack.  “That’s great, but I can just have David help me.”

“Except Davey and I have plans after school,” Jack answered, pulling David closer to him.  “He must have forgotten when he offered to tutor you.”  He gave a shrug.  “Pretty sure the only thing this guy can remember is homework.”

David craned his neck so he could look at Jack.  “Jack, I don’t mind helping Specs with his homework,” he said slowly.  He shot a look to Specs before focusing back in on Jack.  “I mean, we’re friends again.  It’s not like he’s bullying me into something.  You don’t have to …”

Jack drew back as he rose an eyebrow at David.  “I’m not lying about plans to try to help you get out of hanging with Specs,” he said before crossing his arms.  “Did you really forget our plans?”

“Look, if you two have a date or whatever,” Specs started with a smile, holding up his hands to his chest as he took a step back.  “You can just say it.  I know my record isn’t flawless when it comes to that sort of thing, but-”

“It’s not a date,” Jack quickly replied.  He sighed before turning to David and continuing.  “You remember when you promised that if I got a team together you’d play basketball with me?” he asked with raised eyebrows.  He waited for David’s nod before continuing.  “Well, I found a team, and we’re all meeting after school.  See?  Plans.”

“Those aren’t plans, Jack!” David argued as he turned towards him  “You can’t make plans without some kind of date attached to them.”

Jack frowned.  “But I already told the guys you’d be there.  Everyone’s really excited.”

Specs rolled his eyes as he glanced between the boys.  “I’ll be fine, Dave,” he said with a smile. “I’ll just ask Skittery.  It’s no big deal.”

David sighed as he glanced at Specs..  “Yeah, fine then,” he said, turning back to Jack.  “Guess I’ll see you after school.”

“Great!” Jack exclaimed with a smile.  “See you at the court!” he said before taking off down the hall.  

Specs stared at his friend for a few seconds before raising his eyebrow.  “You sure you two aren’t dating?  Because Jack sure seems to act like it.”

David reached into his locker to pull out the book he needed for his next period.  “You, of all people, don’t have any right to judge what Jack and I are doing.”

Specs smile widened.  “That was definitely not a denial,” he pointed out as he walked him to class.

* * *

“For the five hundredth time, Jack, I can’t play basketball today!” Swifty exclaimed, slamming his locker door as he turned to face his best friend with a glare.  “I already told you, ‘I have plans with Sarah today.’  Remember that?  Remember when I told you this _two seconds ago_?”

“So just tell her that you’re free tomorrow,” Jack suggested, leaning against the lockers as he tried his best to pout.

“Tomorrow won’t be our two week anniversary,” Swifty replied, undeterred.  “Jesus, and you’re supposed to be my best friend.  You trying to get my girl to dump me or something?”

“Of course not, but this is really important,” Jack said, quickly following behind Swifty as he left for his next class.  “Also, holy shit, who even celebrates a _two week anniversary_?” he asked, rolling his eyes.

“Sarah says they’re special.”  A lopsided grin appeared on Swifty’s face as he turned towards Jack.  “Like, has used the work ‘special’ in describing this day multiple times.  Think we’re taking our making out to the next step.”

“Yeah, so, on to my problem,” Jack declared, grabbing Swifty’s arm and stopping his brisk pace.  “I really need you to do this for me.”

Swifty raised an eyebrow at him.  “You need me to cancel my anniversary date to, instead, go play basketball with you?  Were you even listening to a word I just said?” he asked.  He rolled his eyes at Jack’s shrug.  “Fucking no, Jack.  Are you a fucking idiot?  That’s how people lose girls.”

“Yeah, but, I kind of …”  Jack shrugged as he trailed off.  “I kind of promised Davey that we could play basketball after school today, and I kind of need a team for that, you know?”

Swifty squinted at him.  “Sooo … I should give up my anniversary date so I can play basketball with my girlfriend’s little brother?  The anniversary date that I’m pretty sure is going to end with at least some mutually beneficial oral sex _at least_ , if not first-time sex?”

“It’s been two weeks and you still haven’t plowed her?” Skittery asked from behind Swifty.  “Never figured you for a prude.”

Swifty whirled around to glare at him.  “No, I haven’t.  Because Sarah isn’t some cheap hussy.”

Skittery rose an eyebrow.  “‘Cheap hussy’?  What are you? Eighty?”

“ _Guys_ , can we stay on point, _please_?” Jack interrupted, shooting both boys a frown.  

“Your point’s been overdone,” Skittery replied, rolling his eyes.  “‘Guys, help me hang out with David!’” Skittery mimicked in a high-pitched voice.  “‘Guys, I hung out with David yesterday and it was so completely magical!’ ‘Guys, I masturbated today while I stalked around on David’s Facebook profile!   _So_ much better than porn, you guys!’ ‘Guys, David just-’ Oof!”

Jack glowered at Skittery as he recovered from Jack’s punch to his stomach.  “I don’t sound like that,” he declared.  “And if you don’t keep it the fuck down I’m slamming you into a locker next.”

“As if you could, nancy boy,” Skittery wheezed, holding his stomach as he tried to get the breath back in his lungs.  

“He does have a point, Jack,” Swifty said with a shrug.  “You’re always jumping on David’s dick.  I realize you guys used to be best friends, but it’s kind of …” He shrugged again as he trailed off.  

“It’s kind of creepy, is what it is,” Skittery finished, making sure to dodge the punch that Jack aimed at his head.  

“Shut the fuck up,” Jack growled, “The both of you.”  He made sure to glare at them both as they stood in the middle of the hallway.  He forced calm into his voice as he explained himself.  “I promised him is all.  I don’t break promises.  Especially not to friends.”

“ _Whipped_ ,” Skittery coughed into his hand, Swifty nodding along with him.

“Oh, fuck off!” Jack exclaimed, going right back to glaring.  “As if you two assholes are any different!”  He turned to glare at Swifty.  “How many plans have you cancelled with me because Sarah was having a bad day at school or whatever the fuck?”  He didn’t wait for an answer as he turned to glare at Skittery.  “And don’t think I don’t know about all the times you fucking left in the middle of the night to bring a high ass Itey a god damn sandwich or chocolate or whatever else he fucking asks for at two in the fucking morning.”

Swifty and Skittery shared a look before turning their attention back to Jack.  “Yeah,” Swifty agreed, slowly nodding his head, “we do those things.  … because we’re _dating_ them.”

“There are certain benefits to being a good boyfriend, you see,” Skittery explained.  “I get sex.  Swifty gets …”  He turned to raise an eyebrow at Swifty before shrugging.  “Well, he gets whatever it is he gets.”

“I get the pleasure of knowing the woman I love is happy,” Swifty explained, giving Skittery a displeased frown.  “It’s not all about sex, you know.”

“Only people who aren’t getting sex say that sex isn’t everything,” Skittery argued.  

Swifty glared at Skittery.  “ _The point is_ ,” he said as he turned back to Jack, “you’re comparing David to our significant others, even though you insist he’s just a friend.  You don’t think that’s a little weird?”

Jack glared at them both.  “I think you should both fuck off,” he muttered before stalking off, determined to find some real friends that would be down to play some after school basketball.

* * *

“Jack, there’s no one here,” David pointed out as he looked around the empty school basketball court.  

Jack looked around.  “Yeah, well, I thought about it, and figured you’d rather get some fundamentals down before we played on teams.  You know, get some one-on-one practice in.”

David crossed his arms as he frowned at his friend.  “One-on-one practice?”  He cocked an eyebrow as he waited for an answer.  

Jack finally shrugged.  “Yeah.”

“Like the one-on-one _game_ you wanted me to play, which I turned down, which is the reason you told me you’d get a team together?”

Jack blinked at him.  “No.  That was a game.  This is practice,” he explained before tossing the basketball he had been holding at David.  

David uncrossed his arms and barely caught it before throwing it back.  “I don’t need practice, Jack.”

“Prove it,” Jack replied, tossing back the ball.  

David caught it with a glare.  “Prove I can play basketball instead of helping my friend with his homework?  No thanks.” He tossed the ball back to Jack.  

“It’ll be fun,” Jack said, lobbing the ball back to David before he registered that David had turned around to walk around.  

The basketball hit David squarely in the back of the head.  He turned back around to Jack, a deep scowl on his face.  “No means no, Jack,” he snapped before turning back around and heading off the court.  “I need to go find Specs,” he muttered.

Spot made sure to hold in his laughter until David was a good distance away.  “Smooth, Jackie-Boy,” he said with a smirk.

Jack jumped a little, the presence unexpected, before turning to glare at his boss.  “As if you’re any better,” he snapped.  

Spot laced his hands behind his head, still smirking at Jack.  “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not the one continually mooning over a potential fuck buddy.”

“I’m not-  David’s not a-” Jack clenched his teeth before turning away.  “Don’t act like you’re so cool when everybody knows you bend over backwards for Race.”

“Only during sex,” Spot returned, still smirking.

Jack blinked at him before he made the connection.  “Oh, Jesus, Spot, that’s fucking gross!” he exclaimed before turning away.  “I do not want to hear about whatever depraved shit you and Racetrack get up to behind closed doors!”

“Who said we close the door?” Spot asked as he followed behind Jack.   

“Jesus fuck.  Stop talking.  Right now.”

* * *

“So now I’m roped into doing this thing I was never told anything about, because Dutchy has those puppy-dog-eye-things for fucking _days_ , and once that doofus has his head wrapped around something it’s pretty impossible to talk him out of it, and I definitely don’t want to explain to him that I can’t go, because then I’ll have to deal with the water works that’ll be sure to come, but that’s the only time my regular tutor can meet with me, and-”

“I get it, Specs,” David interrupted, still waiting patiently outside his friend’s front door.  “I told you I don’t have a problem helping you.”  He glanced past Specs’ shoulder to look into the house.  “But, you know, maybe you could let me inside, so we can get started?”

Specs’ eyes widened as he realized he’d been rambling.  “Right, yeah, of course,” he said, shaking his head a bit as he moved away to let David inside.  “Weren’t you supposed to be playing basketball or some other gay shit after school?” he asked as he shut the door and followed David into the kitchen.  “I thought Jack said you guys were busy today.”

David frowned, both at the ‘gay’ comment and at the ‘Jack’ comment.  “The only plans I had with Jack was watching him run around being an ass.  The guy is convinced I don’t know how to play basketball just because I get good grades.  He refuses to believe any different,” He dropped his bag at the kitchen table before turning to face Specs.  “He won’t even let me play with him and his friends because he’s certain I’m going to embarrass him.  Keeps insisting I need to practice first.”  He slammed himself down at the table before angrily going through his bag for his chemistry book.  

Specs sat down at the table next to him, his eyes wide.  “Gee, Davey, you sure that isn’t just a ploy to spend some one-on-one time with you?”

David stopped going through his bag to glance up at Specs, squinting at his friend.  “What would be the point of that?”

Specs blinked at him before laughing.  “Jesus, and people say _I’m_ oblivious,” he exclaimed.  “It’s obvious Jack likes you, David.  Like, head over heals for you.  He’s more of a puppy dog to you than Dutchy is to me, and _that’s_ saying something.”

“So you’re finally admitting that Dutchy likes you?” David asked, raising an eyebrow and deciding to ignore the rest.  

Specs just shrugged at him.  “Of course he likes me.  Who wouldn’t?  I’m god damn adorable.”

David rolled his eyes.  “Ah, I see, it’s the fact that _you_ like _him_ that’s the hump you need to get over.”

“You’re getting off the subject,” Specs replied, easily sidestepping the issue.  “Jack wants to spend some time alone with you - probably trying to get into those too-tight pants of yours - and you keep blowing him off.”  Specs shook his head.  “Poor, poor, Jack, to be in love with such an oblivious man.”

David shot a quick look at his lap.  “You think my pants are too tight?” he asked with wide eyes.  

Specs hit himself on the forehead with an open palm.  “Way to focus on the most inconsequential thing I said,” he muttered.  

“Way to ignore the fact that you have feelings for Dutchy,” David shot back.  

“Chemistry!” Specs exclaimed instead of answering, quickly plopping his chemistry book on the kitchen table and sliding in next to David.  “So, orbitals, what’s with those?  P? D? How can I tell them apart?  And who the hell decided to give them letters that make no sense whatsoever?”

David rolled his eyes.  “ _You_ make no sense whatsoever,” he muttered before leaning over the book.  “S-orbitals are first.  They have space for two electrons.  P-orbitals have space for six.  Then d-orbitals have space for ten, but the p-orbital on the _next_ shell fills up before the d-orbital on the lower shell does.  So, if you have an element like-”

“Oh my god!” Specs cried, clutching at his head and rocking back and forth.  “How the hell are you talking about chemistry when I _just_ told you that Jack likes you?”  He grabbed his best friend’s shoulders and gave him a light shake.  “This isn’t something you can just ignore!  C’mon, Davey!”

David threw Specs hands off him as he leaned back in his chair.  “I have no problem ignoring it, mostly because you have no idea what you’re talking about, but, also, because I came here to help you with chemistry, not to gossip about who Jack may or may not like.”

“Because you don’t think it’s you?” Specs asked, leaning forward in his chair.  “It so is, by the way.  Dutchy told me, who heard it from Skittery, that Jack talks about you _all_ the time.  Even _Sean’s_ started to make fun of him for it, and, you know, if it’s so blatantly obvious that even _Sean_ knows about it it’s gotta be _real_ blatantly obvious.  Everyone knows he follows you around like the light shines out of your ass, and-”

“And he also went on a date with Jessica Weslon just last week,” David interrupted, shooting Specs a glare before leaning back in towards the chemistry book they were sharing.  “So, if you fill all the spots on the p-orbital in shell three, then you start to fill the s-orbital and the p-orbital in shell four, before you bring it back down to the d-orbital that’s in shell three.  So, if you take the element-”

“Davey, you are absolutely _killing_ me here,” Specs interrupted once again with a groan.  “You’re positively _reeking_ with jealous, and yet you won’t even give him the time of day.  What the hell is _wrong_ with you?”

David’s glare only intensified.  “I’m not _reeking_ with anything,” he snapped.  “And _you’re_ delusional.  And, also, how about you deal with whatever messed up situation you’ve got going on with Dutchy before you start trying to be my fucking matchmaker?”

“Whoa, Davey,” Specs breathed out, his eyes wide.  “Pent up sexual tension, much?  Don’t start cussing at me just because Jack upset you.”

“Jack didn’t-  It’s you that keeps-” David tried to reply before growling and pulling at his hair.  “Do you want help with chemistry or not?”

Specs stared at his friend for a few seconds before shrugging.  “Hey, if you think that blood pressure of yours can handle it, carry on, I guess.”

David stared back before letting out a breath and turning his attention back to the chemistry book in front of them.  “Okay, _so_ , if you have an atom like, iron, let’s say, and-”

“I guess I just don’t understand why you’re so up in arms about this Jack thing.  I mean, why’s it getting you so miffed?  You should-”

David slammed his head on the table.  “I liked you better when you were homophobic.”

* * *

“Alright, I’m in,” Spot said, leaning over Racetrack who was sitting at the kitchen table in the middle of a poker game.  He threw a fifty dollar bill on the table without bothering to wait for a response. 

“Closed game,” Speed grunted from across the table, staring at his cards.  “Jack already tried to buy back in.  I’m done favoring the rich.  Why the fuck’s that kid got so much money anyway?”

“Don’t understand why the hell you have such a problem with people who suck at poker continually giving more money to the pot,” Racetrack grumbled as he played with his chips.  “The more all you guys put in the more I can take,” he said with a grin.  

“Yeah, until someone’s putting in towards the end when they didn’t put in anything at the beginning!” Speed snapped, finally looking up from his cards to shoot Bumlets a glare.  

Bumlets immediately raised his hands in surrender.  “Hey, that wasn’t my intention.  We were just running late,” he explained, glancing quickly next to him at Bam before turning back to Speed.  

“Yeah, running late,” Skittery scoffed before tossing two red chips into the pile at the center of the table.  He threw an arm around Itey.  “Itey and I’ve done that kind of “running late” before, too, haven’t we, honey?” he asked, grinning at Bumlets before turning to his boyfriend.  

Itey just frowned at him before putting down the cards he had been looking at and leaning away.  “You’re trying to look at my hand, you bastard,” he accused.  “Stay on your side.”

Skittery pouted at him, but didn’t get a chance to reply before Spot interrupted.  

“What the fuck are you idiots talking about?  Why the fuck would I want to play some stupid fucking card game I already know Race is going to win?” he snapped, the scowl on his face losing its edge when he lightly tapped his shoulder against Racetrack’s.  “I was talking about that gay pool you idiots have on Jack and that mouthy kid,” he explained.  “Fifty says they’re together by the end of this week.”

Skittery rolled his eyes as he snatched the money from the table.  “Sucker’s bet,” he declared.  “You’re in,” he announced before shoving the money into his pocket.  “Good luck, champ,” he added with a smirk and a wink.

Spot frowned at him.  “Don’t fucking do that,” he demanded, glaring at Skittery before squeezing Racetrack’s shoulder.  “You buying dinner tonight, then?” he asked, pointedly looking down at the pool of money on the table.  

“Sure thing, doll face.”  Racetrack smirked up at him before tossing him a blue chip.  “Here.  How ‘bout you go buy yourself something pretty?”

“Thanks, daddy,” Spot said with a smirk before pocketing the chip and striding out of the room.  

“Whatever the fuck sick game you guys are playing shouldn’t be done around people,” Skittery said with a frown.  “It’s disgusting.”

“Says the guy that was talking about rimming last week,” Bam muttered, leaning into Bumlets but making sure he was loud enough for the whole table to hear.  “But, no, of course _that_ wasn’t disgusting.”

“ _That_ was an expression of our love!” Skittery declared loudly, throwing his arm over Itey once more.  He jerked a thumb over at Racetrack.  “Their pukey-sarcastic pet name thing they’ve got going on, and those stupid sweet faces they keep pulling-”

“... Is called being a couple, Skitts,” Itey interrupted, rolling his eyes.  

Skittery leaned away from him before raising an eyebrow.  “We don’t do shit like that,” he pointed out.

“I’m well aware,” Itey muttered, keeping his focus on the cards in his hand.

“Do you _want_ that?” Skittery asked, turning in his chair and taking both of Itey’s hands in his.  “Because I do love you,” he said with sincerity.  “Not like they told you love is, and I didn’t know this either, but love doesn’t make things nice.  It ruins everything.  It breaks your heart.  It makes things a mess.  We aren’t here to make things perfect.  Snowflakes are perfect.  Stars are perfect.  Not us, Itey.  Not fucking us. We’re here to ruin ourselves and to break our hearts and love the wrong people and die.  The storybooks are fucking bullshit.”  

Itey narrowed his eyes at him.  “I don’t know what fucking movie that’s from, but it doesn’t make any god damn sense, Skitts.  You want to ruin me and break my heart?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.  “Because that’s exactly what it sounds like you just said.

Skittery drew back to think about what he had said.  Admittedly, he probably could have thought about that one a bit longer before he threw it out there like that.  “Itey, we are of one mind.  We are of one heart.  You complete me.  You fill the missing gap in my life I never knew I was missing, but would be crippled if I lost.  You-”

Itey rolled his eyes as he pulled his hands out of Skittery’s.  “Don’t make me fucking puke, Skitts.  Keep that sentimental crap to yourself.”

Skitter smirked at his boyfriend, about to say something before Racetrack interrupted him.

“You guys know Spot’s absolutely winning that bet, right?” Race asked before throwing a handful of chips in front of him.  He jerked his head towards them.  “Also, I’m planning on throwing this much into the pot, so whoever we’re waiting on should either match or just fold now.”

“Alright, one, you’re incorrigible,” Bumlets grumbled, throwing his cards at the pot.  “Also, how the hell do you think Spot’s going to win?  Jack and David are still tiptoeing around each other like Bambis.  It’d be hilarious if it wasn’t so sad.”

“How the hell do you think Spot’s going to place a bet and not cheat?” Racetrack shot back.  

“Oh, believe me, I’m counting on that one,” Bam said, throwing a stack of chips towards the pot.  “Spot’ll cheat, make it worse, and end up ensuring his loss.  That guy doesn’t know the first thing about romance.”

“He’s more romantic than you’d think,” Racetrack claimed before looking up to raised eyebrows around the table.  He raised his hands in surrender.  “I didn’t say he _was_ ,” he grumbled, “just that it’s more than you would think.”

Speed rolled his eyes before throwing a ten-dollar bill on the table.  “Ten bucks says Spot tries to cheat and makes it worse.”

Racetrack smirked at him.  “Alright, fine.  Anybody else want in?  I’ll match everyone in Spot’s favor.  Come on, ante up.   I need enough money to take my baby to Red Lobster,” he said, his smirk widening as he looked around the table and everyone began to pull out their wallets.  

* * *

Jack was flipping through a magazine in his, for once, relatively empty room.  That was still the god damn basement, despite the fact that Skittery, who had gotten here _after_ him, already had a room upstairs.  And Racetrack, who had gotten here _way_ after him, and Bumlets, who wasn’t even _in_ the gang, got two of the best beds in the whole hotel.  Granted, they were sharing them with people, but, still, it wasn’t fair in even the loosest sense of the word.   

“That magazine pissing you off or are you just constipated?” Spot asked, causing Jack to jump at least half a foot into the air.  

“Jesus fucking Christ!” he exclaimed, shutting his magazine and turning to glare at where the other man was standing in the doorway.  “You trying to take a page out of Stealth’s book?  Wear a fucking bell,” he snapped.  

Spot just crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway.

Jack rose an eyebrow at him, but, eventually, he was the one to break first.  “Shit, you really are trying to be like Stealth, aren’t you?  What the fuck do you want, Spot?  Can’t you see I’m finally enjoying some peace and quiet?”

Spot pointedly looked at the five other boys scattered throughout the beds laid across the basement.  He rose his own eyebrow at Jack, but still didn’t open his mouth.  

“God damn it, this is the most private it gets down here, okay?” Jack snapped, answering him despite the fact that Spot had yet to say anything.  “So will you leave me alone?” he asked before picking up the magazine he had dropped on the bed and paging through it once more.  “Thank you,” he muttered after several minutes of silence.

Spot waited a few minutes more before finally saying something.  “Let’s go do something,” he demanded, causing Jack, who had assumed he’d already left, to jump and drop his magazine for a second time.  

“God damn it, Spot!” Jack shouted, glaring at the other man.  “I just wanted some fucking peace and quiet, okay?  Can I have that?  Please?  Just some fucking time to myself?”

“That doesn’t sound very entertaining from my perspective,” Spot replied before walking over to Jack’s bed and picking up the corner of the magazine with just the tips of his two fingers.  He looked at the picture on the cover of a guy clad only in speedos.  “What the fuck are you even reading?” he asked with a frown.  “Fucking porn?”

“It’s Sports Illustrated,” Jack scowled as he yanked the magazine from Spot and shoved it under his pillow.  

Spot rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, the swimsuit edition.  Otherwise known as porn for kids.”

“ _One_ , I’m not a fucking kid, in case you haven’t noticed.   _Two_ , that guy is a legitimate swimmer!  He was in the last Olympics for fuck’s sake!”

“And if you were browsing a G-rated porno mag it’d feature that guy on the cover,” Spot replied with a smirk.  

Jack frowned at him before sputtering and glaring.  “I’m not gay, Spot!” he cried out.  “Jesus, are you for real right now?  I went on a date with Jessica Welson just last week!”

“I noticed that,” Spot said, turning away from Jack’s bed and starting to head up the stairs.  “I also noticed you came home before ten o’clock.”

Jack dutifully followed after him.  “Yeah, because you refused to let me borrow a car to take out, and her parents made her keep her bedroom door open, _not_ because I’m fucking gay.”

Spot shrugged his shoulders, not bothering to look behind him as he led Jack through their lobby.  “Whatever you need to tell yourself, Jackie-Boy.  I don’t really give a fuck either way, to be honest.”

“Then why the fuck are you bringing it up?”

“Because I walked in on you reading a porno mag,” Spot explained, shrugging his shoulders once again.  “Excuse me for pointing out the obvious when it’s right in front of my fucking face.”

“It was a fucking issue of Sport’s Illustrated!” Jack snapped back as he glared at the back of Spot’s head.  “And I don’t fucking understand why the fuck you’re so fixated on that.  Who the fuck do you care who I’m jerking off to?”

“I don’t care who to,” Spot answered as they got outside.  “But I sure as shit care that you are.  You think I want a bunch of guys running around my house with all this fucking pent up aggression because they don’t have the balls to stick it in who they want?”

“Exactly what the fuck are you trying to get at here?” Jack asked, suddenly faltering in his walking.  “If you really cared about me getting it in you would’ve loaned me a car when I asked you for one.  And where the fuck are you taking me?  What’s your endgame here?”  He finally stopped following Spot, instead crossing his arms and waiting for an answer.  

Spot waited until he reached the end of the block to turn around.  “You follow me this far and _now_ you’re worried about my endgame?”  He rolled his eyes.  “Jesus, you’re an idiot.”

“It’s not like I don’t know where we are, you ass,” Jack snapped.  “We aren’t even half a mile away.  And I didn’t realize that _trusting_ you was grounds for being an idiot.”

“Yeah, that’s one of the reasons you’re an idiot,” Spot replied before sighing.  “I’m just trying to make a couple bucks on the side,” he admitted before shrugging.  “Thought we’d play that basketball game you were so gung-ho about earlier.”

“Oh, yeah?  And exactly what do I get out of that?” Jack asked with a frown.  

Spot shrugged at him.  “Give you half if we win,” he offered flippantly.  

“I’m in,” Jack said without even thinking it over.  It was easy money as far as he was concerned.

“That’s what I thought,” Spot answered before turning back around and continuing down the street.  “C’mon then.  We just gotta pick up the last player.”

* * *

Specs slammed his head onto David’s kitchen table.  “I really don’t understand all this shit,” he muttered, pushing the chemistry book towards his friend.  “I think that thing should be burned or something.  How the fuck am I supposed to make sense of it?” 

David rolled his eyes as he smoothed out the pages of the book.  “You’re supposed to be listening to me when I explain things to you,” he explained patiently.  “Remember the last time we had this talk?  About how tutoring works?”

“You’re being sarcastic, aren’t you?” Specs asked, his head still pressed down onto the table.  

David smirked at his head.  “A bit.”  He jumped slightly when his doorbell went off and he looked down at Specs with a frown on his face.  “You didn’t invite anyone over, did you?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.  

That made Specs finally tilt his head up, raising an eyebrow at his best friend.  “For real, Davey?  Why would I do something like that? It's _your_ house.”

David shrugged as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his head.  “Well, I didn’t invite anyone over, and Sarah told me she was going to be out with Swifty all day, and my parents are at a seminar until Sunday night, and-”

“... And, obviously, none of your friends would ever come over on a whim,” Specs finished for him with a smirk.  “Seriously, Davey, I feel like you think you’re some social leper or something,” he chastised as he went to open the door.  “You do have friends, you know.  Like, a lot.  For real.  Have you counted them before?”

“Who?”

Specs rolled his eyes.  “Jesus, you never listen to me,” he grumbled.  “Have you ever sat down and actually counted out how many friends we have now?  Dutchy, Blink, Mush, Racetrack, Bumlets, Bam, Itey, Skittery, Swifty.”  He opened the door as he continued naming people off.  “Swifty, Me, Jack, Spot.”  He jerked his head in Jack’s and Spot’s direction when it turned out to be them on the other side of the door.  

“You guys talking about us?” Jack asked as he stepped into the house.  “Good things, I hope.”  He ignored everyone for the few seconds it took to smile at David.  

Specs shrugged at Jack’s back.  “I was just talking about how we’re all friends now.”

“I don’t know why the fuck you would think I’m friends with any of you fucking idiots,” Spot replied, following behind Jack.  “What the fuck kind of impression do I exude that would make you think that?” he asked Specs, making sure to glare when he walked past him.  “Take me off that fucking list.  Now.”

Specs squinted at him.  “You realize that an actual list doesn’t really exist, right?” he asked.  “I was just trying to explain to David that he’s more popular than he thinks he is.”

“What the fuck’s the point in lying to the kid?” Spot asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jack didn’t hesitate to smack him in the back of the head.  “Don’t be an ass,” he demanded with no heat before turning to David.  “So, Spot’s got a pretty good team ready to play some basketball over by our place.  We just need two more players,” he said with a smile.

“He’s lying,” Spot said, glaring at Specs.  “We only need _one_ person.”

“Don’t pay any attention to him.”  Jack elbowed Spot in the stomach, giving him a short glare when they made eye contact.  “We’ll make room,” he offered, glancing over at Specs before giving David his full attention.  “What do you say?” he asked with a smile.

David gave a soft smile back.  “It sounds really fun, Jack, but I’ve really gotta stay here and help Specs-”

“Specs won’t be here because he’ll be busy playing basketball,” Spot answered, shooting Specs a glare as soon as he opened his mouth to reply.  Spot leaned into him and muttered a threat, making sure the others wouldn’t be able to hear it.  “Either that or your brains will be too busy sunbathing on the fucking sidewalk to get any studying done.”  

“It _does_ sound real fun, Davey,” Specs immediately said, sending Spot a worried glance before forcing out a smile to David.  “And all this studying is really giving me a headache.”

“We haven’t even been studying for an hour, Specs!” David exclaimed.  “You were _just_ telling me that you’ve got a test on Monday you don’t think you’re going to pass.  I don’t think _now’s_ the time to be playing basketball!”

“Or maybe a clear head’s exactly what he needs,” Jack replied, still smiling.  “Plus, Skittery’ll be over there.  Maybe he can help you help Specs.  I told you, Skittery really knows his chemistry.”  Jack rolled his eyes.  “Says it’s because he practices with Itey all the time.”

“And we’ve got all day Sunday to study,” Specs added when Spot wouldn’t stop glaring at him.  “That’s plenty of time.”

David sighed before running a hand through his hair.  “It’s really not,” he argued with a sigh, “but I’m not your mom.  If you wanna play basketball instead of studying then I guess we’ll play basketball.”

* * *

“Teams picked?” Spot asked, walking down a line of five people on his right and four people on his left.   

“No, teams are not fucking picked,” Skittery snapped, looking down the line at the four other players.  “You basically shoved everyone into fucking groups!  We didn’t even get to fucking pick anyone!”  He pointed down to the last person in the line.  “I certainly don’t want that fucking douchebag on my team!  He doesn’t even know how to fucking play!  He’ll probably go running off searching for flowers or some shit before the first quarter even ends!” He glared down at Dutchy who was staring up at the sky with a blissed out smile on his face.  “Who’s the fucking captain that picked this shit out?”

“I’m the fucking captain that picked this shit out,” Racetrack snapped from right next to Skittery.  “You got a fucking problem with that?”  He immediately squared up to his friend and glared down at him, despite the fact that Skittery was half an inch taller.  

“Simmer down now, el capitan,” Skittery breathed out, eyebrows raised and hands up in surrender.  “Jesus, who shit in your cereal this morning?”

Bam stared at Spot from his place on the other side of Racetrack.  He looked down his line and then looked across the way at the other line up.  He didn’t miss the fact that there was a space for Spot right across from Racetrack.  Or that Bumlets was right across from him.  Or that David was across from Jack.  He looked back at Spot, his eyes narrowed.  “Exactly what is it you’re planning on doing here?”

Spot turned from where he had been going down the line and smirked at him.  He rose a single eyebrow.  “Why, I’m planning on playing basketball.  What else would I be doing?”  He put a hand on his chest.  “We’re shirts.  You guys,” he said, looking down the row Bam was standing in, “will be skins.” His smirk widened.  “First team to forty-two wins and none of that pussy-ass calling fouls shit.”

“No fouls?” David asked, his eyes wide as he looked across from him at Jack, Spot, Itey, Bumlets, and Specs.  They were all heavy hitters, as far as he was concerned.  “But someone could get hurt!”

“And what the hell kind of a number is forty-two?” Itey asked from his spot across from Skittery.  

Racetrack pulled off his shirt and shrugged.  “It’s an arbitrary number,” he explained.  “Spot and I agreed on it when we were picking out teams.”

Bumlets shared a look with a now-shirtless Bam, only momentarily distracted by his bare chest.  “Why do I get the feeling this is some kind of setup?”

Bam blew him a kiss.  “Oh, it definitely is, buttercup, but whatever kind of setup this is has nothing to do with me.  I’m along for the ride same as you.”

“Hey, don’t look at me,” Skittery said when Itey began to glare at him.  “I didn’t set this up.”  He sent a pointed look down the lines at Jack and David who were quietly talking to each other, oblivious to everything else.  “But I think we can all guess what this is about.”

Bumlets raised an eyebrow at him.  “You think Spot’s trying to get Jack and David together by making them play a fucking basketball game?”

“Not trying to,” Spot corrected as he stood in the place he had saved for himself next to Bumlets and Itey and across from Racetrack.  “Am going to.”  He smirked at Skittery.  “There’s a strong difference there.”

Skittery rolled his eyes.  “You think if you make David play basketball without his shirt on Jack’s just going to, what?  Pounce on him and declare his undying love?  Sounds like something Dutchy would come up with.”

“Yeah, because that’d be dumb as fuck,” Spot replied.  “No, that’s not the fucking plan, you halfwit.  The only reason you’re skins is so that I can enjoy the view.”  He sent a smirk Racetrack’s way before going back to glaring at Skittery.  “My plan’s a lot more intricate than that bullshit,” he promised.

* * *

Jack shoved at Spot, hard, and Spot would have been pounding his head into the concrete if Racetrack wasn’t there to stop him.   

“Relax, Spot,” Racetrack muttered, putting a hand on his chest as he lightly held Spot against going after the other boy.  “You’re the one who wanted to do it this way, remember?”

Spot gritted his teeth, but he took the moment to lean into Racetrack’s bare chest instead of going after Jack and ripping out his femur just so he could beat him with it.”

“He’s on our fucking team!” Itey reminded Jack loudly, shoving at him on behalf of Spot.  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing!”

Jack whirled on the other boy, snarling.  “He was going after Davey!”

“Yeah,” Bumlets broke in, angrily striding over to Jack, “because he had the fucking ball.  And he’s on the other fucking team.  Do you not get how this game works?”

“I don’t need your protection anyway!” David yelled from a little ways down the court before chucking the ball at Jack’s head.  

“It was our ball, Davey,” Skittery reminded him quietly, shaking his head.  

David was more than happy to ignore him.  “Stop treating me like I’m four!  I _know_ how to play basketball, and I _have_ gotten fouled before.”

“If you knew how to play you wouldn’t have just given the other team the ball,” Skittery muttered with a frown.  

“Please tell me this wasn’t your fucking plan,” Bam said quietly, leaning in towards where Spot and Racetrack stood away from the rest of the players.  “Get them so mad at each other they start humping?”

Spot narrowed his eyes.  “That’s-” he started before frowning.  “It worked out better in my head.”

“Spot!” Racetrack immediately chastised, taking a step back and wearing his own frown.  “You said your plan was to make them play basketball together so they could talk!  Not so they could fight!”

“This way was funnier!” Spot shouted back with no remorse.  

“Jesus, Spot,” Racetrack replied, rubbing his forehead with closed eyes.  “Okay, okay,” he said after several seconds of listening to Jack and David bicker back and forth.  “We’ve gotta explain this to them.  I’m going to go fix this,” he decided before walking off without waiting for an answer.  

Bam turned to his boss, eyes narrowed.  “Was _that_ your fucking plan?” he asked, jerking his head at Racetrack’s retreating back. “To force Race to go over and patch things up?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Spot shrugged.  “Racetrack does sappy shit a lot better than I do.”

Bam shook his head.  “You’re psychopathic in your brilliance.”

* * *

“I’m sorry,” Racetrack said immediately after he got done explaining the reason why they were all here.  “It was all in fun, but I guess things got out of hand.  And I’m sorry for the part I played in it.  I should have known right away it was a dumb idea, playing people like that, but Spot is really convincing when he’s-” He cut himself off to look at an already-red-faced David and a scowling Jack.  He cleared his throat.  “Right, well, what he was doing doesn’t really matter.  The point is that it was wrong of us to interfere like we did.  And I’m sorry.”   

“Right, no, I mean, I get it,” Jack stumbled, still not looking at either of them.  “I mean, it was a good joke, right, Davey?”

David jerked up as if he had been shocked, his face still red even as he began to scowl.  “Yeah, it was real hilarious,” he snapped.  He whirled around and started walking off the court.  “I think I’d like to go home now, Specs,” he muttered as he headed to his car.

Specs blinked a few times before things seemed to click.  He gave a slight bounce before following after him.  He smirked at Jack as he brushed by before hurrying to meet David at his car.  

Dutchy sighed after him.  He waited to speak until both the car doors had shut.  “That, ladies and gentlemen, is a grade A hunk of man meat.”  

“What the fuck are you even talking about?  Itey’s the only grade A hunk of man meat here, you sad, blind freak,” Skittery snapped.

“Jesus, Skittery, what the fuck?” Itey snapped.  “There are _two_ grade A hunks of man meat here, and maybe if there was a mirror nearby you would see that.”

Skittery smirked at him.  “You’re just saying that to get in my pants.”

“You’re damn fucking right, I am,” Itey admitted.

“I, for one, am glad it ended early,” Bam said over Skittery’s and Itey’s flirting.  He shot a smirk over to Bumlets.  “More time for fun stuff, right?”

“No!” Bumlets snapped.  “That was one of my best friends!  You think I’m just going to let him go home without checking up on him after Jack was a complete dick to him?  What the fuck?”  He glared at him before heading off in the direction of the nearest subway.

“I was not a dick to him!” Jack shouted at his back.

“Oh, you were,” Dutchy argued with a smile.  “The fact that you don’t know that you were being a dick to him just makes you more of a dick.”

“Shut up, Dutchy, you sad, blind freak,” Jack muttered as he crossed his arms.  

Spot strolled over to where Racetrack was still standing next to Jack.  He put his arm around him as he looked around the basketball court as almost everyone yelled at each other.  “You caused all this, you know.”

Racetrack turned to glare at him.  “Shut the fuck up, Spot.”

* * *

“Shut up, Specs,” David ground out as he gripped the steering wheel hard enough to make his knuckles go white.   

“I did not say a single thing,” Specs slowly replied, not bothering to hide his smirk.  “... _This time_ ,” he finished, his smirk widening.  “But I’ve _totally_ been telling you that you and Jack were acting like a couple.  Didn’t I?  Man, if Spot’s noticing it so much he wants to play matchmaker you guys are, like, way more obvious than I thought.”

“You sound like a teenage girl right now, you know that?” David snapped, not bothering to take his eyes off the road.  “And Jack isn’t interested.  You heard him.  It’s a joke, right?  A real hilarious one, too, according to him.”

Specs rolled his eyes.  “Please, he’s just covering up.  The dude’s totally obsessing over you.  His eyes follow you across the room.  He almost took off Spot’s head because he fouled you a couple times.”

“Yeah, and he’s also a closet case,” David snapped.  “I’m not interested, Specs, so just drop it, okay?”

Specs blinked at his friend before his face scrunched in confusion.  “Soo … you _do_ like Jack, and you know Jack likes you, but you won’t go out with him because he won’t admit he likes you?”

“Yes,” David replied, still glaring.  “How is that a hard subject to grasp?  Why would I want to date someone that doesn’t even want to admit that he likes me?  You think that’s something that would be good for my self esteem?  You think it’s something I would enjoy doing?”

Specs’ frown just deepened.  “Do all of you feel that way?” he asked, biting his lip.  “I mean,” he asked quietly, “do you think Dutchy feels the same way?”

“‘All of us’ meaning ‘us gays’?” David asked with raised eyebrows.  “Well, we’re not some hive-mind, Specs.  Jesus.  We all don’t think the same.  How many times do I have to tell you that?”  He sighed before answering the question.  “But, yes, I’d say that Dutchy’s pretty tired of you refusing to admit he’s more than a friend when he so _clearly_ is.”

“Huh,” Specs replied, leaning back in his chair with a small frown.  “He seems happy enough, though.”

“Then don’t change anything,” David snapped as he immediately went back to glaring.  “Maybe Dutchy _likes_ pseudo dating a closet case.  He’ll probably stay with you forever, because who wouldn’t, right?  Man, Dutchy sure is lucky he gets to make out with you sometimes when no one’s looking.”

“Well, someone’s practicing their sarcasm today,” Specs huffed as he crossed his arms.  “Maybe Jack isn’t a closet case.  Maybe he just doesn’t want to date someone who lashes out at people for no reason.”

‘Or,’ Specs thought as David sat fuming at the road, ‘maybe, being new to this whole gay thing, Jack didn’t know that being a closet case would inhibit his chances with David.’  Specs sure didn’t know before David had told him.  It was only right for Specs to let him know straight-only-kinda-gay guy to straight-only-kinda-gay guy.

* * *

“Are you fucking done?” Spot asked as Racetrack continued to yell at him as Skittery and Itey nodded their heads along.  “Do you not remember that you were the ones who agreed to this bet in the first place? 

They were all huddled in the kitchen, away from the other gang members as they whined about whether or not the bet had gone too far.  Because they had become a group of pussies overnight.

“Can we talk about how my privacy was completely violated by said bet?” Jack snapped.  “I don’t care who started it.  I want a guarantee that this shit isn’t going to happen again.”

“Jesus, you’re a pussy,” Spot replied, rolling his eyes.  “Is that a manhattan thing or what?”  He turned towards Bam.  “What the fuck is wrong with these idiots?”

Bam put his hands up in surrender, pointedly glancing at Bumlets who stood beside him.  “Oh, you aren’t putting me in the middle of this one.  I’m in enough trouble already thanks to you.”  He crossed his arms as he glared at the floor.  “... Even though I didn’t have nothing to do with it,” he muttered.

“You didn’t have _anything_ to do with it,” Bumlets corrected quietly.

“See?” Bam perked up with a smirk, jerking his thumb in Bumlets’ direction.  “He agrees with me!”

“Jesus,” Spot muttered, gritting his teeth before running a hand through his hair.  He gripped the chair in front of him and he let out an angry breath.  “I’m trying to stay fucking calm here.  I really fucking am, but you guys are so fucking _annoying_ ,” he said, picking up the wooden chair he had been gripping and hurling it at the wall.  “I don’t give a fuck whether your friend or lover or whatever the fuck he is is mad at you,” he growled at Jack.  “If you’d just man the fuck up and tell him about your pussy ass feelings maybe you wouldn’t be here whining about it.”

“Right, just like you did with Racetrack, right?” Jack snapped back.  “Not like you ever mooned about the guy to Sling-”

Spot was across the room and had Jack backed against the wall with a hand on his throat before anyone could blink.  “You don’t mention that name in my fucking house.   _Never_.  You understand?” he growled in a low voice.  He stepped back and released him before whirling around and storming out.  

The occupants of the room stood blinking at each other until something crashed from the floor above them, causing everyone to flinch.  

“Should we be concerned that he’s going to break the hotel?” Itey asked, looking at Skittery.  

Skittery shook his head before shrugging.  “I’ve never seen him that angry before,” he admitted before looking at Racetrack.  

“Don’t look at me,” Race replied with wide eyes, his hands up in surrender.  “The last time I saw him this angry was while I was kidnapped, and, you know, I was a little too busy being kidnapped to do anything about that one.”

“It’s no big deal,” Bam assured the group.  “He gets like this sometimes.  Slingshot’ll-” His face fell as he realized his mistake.  “Oh.”  He blinked before looking at Racetrack.  “Well, you’re supposed to be his replacement, right?  Guess that means this job falls on you.”

Racetrack’s eyes widened.  “Wh-what the hell am I supposed to do about it?”

“I don’t know.  Sex stuff?” Bam asked with a shrug.  “You think I know what Slingshot did to calm his ass down?  Didn’t realize I’d ever need notes on that shit.”

Racetrack glanced at the door before something else shattered above them.  He turned to look back at Bam, his eyes still wide.  “I’m not putting my dick anywhere around _that_ right now.”

“He’ll take care of it,” Stealth said from behind Racetrack, causing everyone in the room to jump once more.  

Skittery was the only one who seemed happy to see him.  “Quiet kid!  How ya been?” he asked with a smile as he strode over.  “Who’s taking care of what now?”

Stealth frowned at Skittery’s unchanging smile for several seconds before replying.  “King will take care of it,” he explained before looking at Racetrack and just staring.

Racetrack looked around the room before pointing at himself.  “Do … do you mean me?” he asked, squinting as he leaned towards Stealth.  “Am I king?”

Bam burst out laughing before Stealth could answer.  “Spot’s king,” he explained between laughs.  “Always and forever.  Stealth’s telling us not to worry about it, right, you creepy son of a bitch?”

Stealth just frowned at him.

* * *

Spot was, admittedly, overly angry.  He could understand that, but that didn’t mean he could change it.  What he could do, he thought as he kicked over his second bookshelf and had started to throw his third chair, was get out of his house before he destroyed the fuck out of everything.  

So, he had taken to the streets, hoping that someone would be stupid enough to jump him so he could let off some steam.  So far, no good.  

He tried to be contemplative, but it seemed he was too wound up for it.  Too fucking angry.  Slingshot was really the only one that could get through to him when he was like this, and that thought did nothing but make him angrier.  

He swung on the brick wall next to him, wincing as his knuckles immediately started bleeding.  Still, senseless violence always helped clear his head, so he kept doing it.  He’d walk a block or two and then take a swing, or hurl a trash can across the road, or kick a lamp post.

It wasn’t until he punched a brick wall and felt a pain go right to his elbow that he took a break and started assessing his surrounds.  That was when he realized that he had walked himself right to fucking Manhattan and had probably punched his way into a broken fucking finger to boot.  And he was still fucking angry.

He forced himself to breath out and focus.  He wanted fucking Slingshot because he could fix how mad he was, but that just made him angrier, which made him want Slingshot more, which made him angrier.  And Spot couldn’t do anything but positively fume as his head went round and round.  

He needed someone or something to focus all his anger on.  Someone he could beat up.  Or someone who could beat him up.  

He snorted at that thought, despite how angry he still was.  No one had been able to beat him up in almost five years, and it was unlikely that he’d find them on tonight of all nights and in Manhattan of all places.

Still, he needed _someone_ to beat up, which could explain why he was on this particular porch knocking on this particular door.  And as soon as it opened he punched the person on the other end, despite the fact that it wasn’t the person he had assumed it would be.

“What the fuck?” Specs exclaimed, suddenly on the floor and holding a bloody nose.  “What the hell?  Davey!  Call the cops or some shit!  What the fuck?”

“Whoops,” Spot muttered with a frown.  He glanced down at Specs as he let himself in, walking over the other boy.  “David!” he yelled up the stairs.  “Get the fuck out here!” he demanded.

“Sean, is that you?” David asked, coming from the dining room and pausing mid step as he saw Specs on the floor and Spot covered in blood.  His eyes were wide as he dashed over.  “Oh my goodness!  Wh-what happened?  Did you get into a fight?” he asked, immediately grabbing Spot’’s hand and inspecting his fingers.  

Spot hissed in pain as David came across the finger he had broken and the dork cooed in relpy.  Fucking cooed.  At Spot.  At the fucking king of Brooklyn.  He snatched his hand away and slapped the other man on the back of the head.  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

David blinked at him, as if he had no idea how fucking awful he was being.  “You … you’re hurt.  I was just making sure-”

”Making sure of _what_ ?” Spot interrupted.  “I’m _fine_.  I’m not some little pussy,” he explained as he started to pace the room.  “I don’t need a fucking mom or whatever it is you’re trying to fucking do here.  And I don’t need you coming around being a fucking distraction either.”

“Distraction?” David asked, taking a step back with wide eyes.  “Sean, I appreciate-I mean, I can understand that sometimes feelings-" 

Spot slapped him in the back of the head again.  “Not a distraction to _me_ , you fucking idiot.  A distraction to _Jack_ .  Jesus fuck, why the hell would I like _you_?  You’re so fucking soft I can’t even bring myself to punch you, even though that was what I was thinking about fucking doing the entire time I was coming over here.”  He started pacing again.  “I don’t even know what the fuck he sees in you.  You’re a god damn pussy.  And you’re fucking uppity.  And you whine all the god damn time.”

David frowned at him, but didn’t argue as he grabbed a hold of Spot’s hand again.  “I think you broke your hand,” he said in reply.  “It’s pretty swollen.  We need to get some ice on it.”

“ _We_ don’t need to do anything,” Spot snapped, ripping his hand away once more.  “ _You_ need to either leave Brooklyn the fuck alone or stop playing hard to get.”  He winced as he tried to move his hand.  “Jesus fuck, I don’t know when the fuck I started leading around a bunch of pussies.  Or when everyone in my gang started flying the fucking rainbow flag.  Jesus.”

David glanced down at Spot’s hand and then at where Specs stood, holding his still bleeding nose.  His frown deepened.  “Well, I should at least take care of one of you,” he mumbled as he left the room.

“Hey, lay off Davey, alright?” Specs asked, his voice coming out stuffy due to all the blood.  

Spot rose the corner of his lip in disgust.  “I don’t even know who the fuck you are.”

Specs blinked at him, opening and closing his mouth a few times before finally snapping it shut.  “You’re an awful person, and, one day, Racetrack’s going to see that and break your heart,” he said, pointing at Spot before stomping off after David.  

“Jesus, is this what I’m fucking turning into?” Spot asked the empty room.  Instead of wishing Slingshot was there he broke a vase that had been innocently sitting on the fireplace.  

* * *

“I’m sorry about Spot,” Racetrack said once again, this time going as far as to go all the way down to the basement so he could say it as Jack got ready for bed.  “He’s- … Well, his people skills are lacking, to say the least.” 

“Yeah, I know, Race,” Jack grunted from the floor where he was doing sit ups.  “I’ve met the guy, ya know.”  He gave a sigh that had nothing to do with his exercising.  “You can be as sorry as you want, but that doesn’t keep David from being angry at me.  And it certainly doesn’t mean that Spot won’t do this exact same shit over as soon as he fe wants to”

“He won’t,” Racetrack promised.  “I’ll make sure he-”

“Make sure he does what?” Jack interrupted.  “Make sure he listens to you?  How?  You going to deny him sex or something?  You think you can control that guy?  The only person who could control him was Slingshot, and now he’s fucking gone, the sack of shit.”

“Spot listens to me,” Racetrack insisted.  “You’ve seen him do it.  He-”

“He listens to you,” Jack repeated, nodding his head.  “Yeah, he does.  When he’s in a good mood.  He certainly didn’t listen to you when he was breaking everything in sight earlier.  You had no idea what to do.  And Spot gets like that.  He just does.  Everyone here’s used to it.  You know who isn’t?” he asked, finally stopping his exercising to lean over his knees and look up at Racetrack.  “You.”

Racetrack frowned down at him. “Today was-”

“Today was normal,” Jack finished for him.  “And no one knew what to do, because Slingshot always took care of it.  Now the fucking bastard’s dead, and Spot’s going to run amok.  Especially since he was the one who killed him.”

Racetrack sat beside his friend.  “Okay, so what is it you think we should do then?”

“I’ve got no idea what _you_ guys should do,” Jack admitted.  “But I think _I_ should get out while I still can.  And I think you probably should, too, what with Spot being completely psychopathic and all.”

“He’s not psychopathic, Jack,” Racetrack explained with a sigh.  “He’s just going through some things.  His best friend just died.  He’s not-”

“Yeah, his best friend and fuck buddy, of which neither title Spot would ever grace him with, is dead because Spot fucking killed him,” Jack pointed out.

“Because he betrayed him,” Racetrack said.

“Because he’s a lunatic,” Jack immediately replied.

Racetrack frowned at him.  “You can’t seriously be thinking of _defaulting_?”

“You can’t seriously be thinking of _staying with him_?”  Jack shot back.  “After knowing what he’s like?  Do you even know how he used to treat Slingshot?  You think he’s going to treat you any better?”

Racetrack’s frown deepened.  “How … how did he treat Slingshot?  He treated him bad?”

Jack shook his head as he looked at Race in sympathy.  “I don’t know too much about it, but I know it wasn’t good.  What have Mush and Blink said about it?  I can’t help but notice that they don’t exactly hang around here.  You know, like ever.”

“Mush,” Racetrack started just to stop himself.  “He’s just got the wrong impression of Spot, that’s all. He says he’s uncomfortable being here, but he’s never … I mean, maybe he’s talked to me about Spot a few times, but he’s never …  He just doesn’t-”

“Just doesn’t understand?” Jack finished for him, raising an eyebrow.  “Does anyone understand, Race?  Do Bam or Speed understand?  Or is Spot out of their mental grasp, too, even though they’ve known him for years?  Have you ever talked to anyone here about what it is, _exactly_ , you’re getting into?”

“You’re talking about defaulting, Jack,” Racetrack said with a frown.  “Over a basketball game.”

“I’m talking about defaulting because I’m being pushed around by a mad man,” Jack replied.  “You’re talking about dating said mad man, possibly for life, because if Slingshot’s anything to go by, Spot doesn’t let go.  Ever.”  He raised an eyebrow at his friend.  “You ever think about that?  They’ve basically been doing whatever the fuck it was they were doing since Slingshot became his second.  And the only reason it stopped is because Spot killed him.  That doesn’t freak you out?”

Racetrack sighed.  “I get it.  I do, but you’re talking about defaulting.  Wouldn’t it be best to talk to him first?  Let him know where you stand?”

“What, so he can kill me before I default?” Jack asked before shaking his head.  “You don’t get it, Race.  You’re too wrapped up in this.  I’ve gotta leave.  Planning on it, actually.  Tonight.  You’re welcome to join me, if you ever get your head on straight.”

* * *

Spot came home no less angry than when he had left, but he _had_ managed to reign it in more.  His hand was wrapped in the ace bandage David had insisted on giving him, and he even calmed down enough to feel guilty about breaking David’s mom’s vase or whatever.  Not that it made him help fix it, but, you know, he felt a bit bad about the whole thing.  

He was still angry his members were turning into giant pussies.  Still angry he missed Slingshot.  Still angry he had lost that stupid fucking bet that wasn’t supposed to mean anything in the first place.  And still angry he had nothing and no one to relieve his aggression on.

So when Stealth stopped him on his way up to his room to explain that the king had left to claim his rightful place in Manhattan Spot was elated. .  

He grinned as he patted Stealth on the shoulder.  “He already take off then?  Know where he went?”

Stealth nodded, staring at Spot for a few seconds before answering.  “I would imagine he went to the queen’s house.”

Spot rolled his eyes.  “Would you stop calling him that shit?  Fuck, he’s a dude, for shit’s sake, in case you hadn’t noticed,” he grumbled.  

Stealth took only a few seconds to reply.  “Royalty knows no gender.”

“You’re fucking with me, right?” Spot asked, raising an eyebrow.  He stared Stealth down for several seconds before shaking his head and turning away.  “Okay, yeah, whatever.  Tell Racetrack-”  He frowned before shaking his head once again.  “Never mind,” he decided before striding off, going back in the direction he had just come from.  

He didn’t have to tell Racetrack anything, after all.  And maybe his members were turning into pussies because _he_ was turning into a pussy, and wasn’t that a thought that got his blood pressure rising.  

Fuck all this relationship bullshit.  Nothing had gone right since Racetrack had come into the picture.  He’d kill him if he didn’t think his fucking mother would freak the fuck out at him about it.  Spot wanted to stab someone just thinking about it.

He turned around and went back towards Manhattan, all the while thinking about how many bones of Jack’s he was going to break.  

* * *

Jack was lying on David’s pullout couch, curled in a blanket while his friend went to get him a spare pillow.  If he had known he was going to basically be getting a double bed anytime he stayed with Davey he would have come here a long time ago.   

He frowned, knowing that if he stayed more than a night or two he’d owe David more of an explanation than a simple “I don’t want to go home tonight.”  He especially didn’t want to have to explain that the home he didn’t want to go back to also didn’t exist.  

But, the truth of things was he’d probably have to.  Because who else did he have but David?  Skittery was back in Brooklyn, and while Itey and Bumlets weren’t a part of the gang they certainly slept there enough.  He knew he couldn’t go to Dutchy’s place, since his parents would throw a fit.  Maybe he could go over to Swifty’s place.  Or Mush’s.  Or Blink’s.  But his stomach churned at the thought of telling anyone of them about his situation.  He felt relatively comfortable telling David, on the other hand.  You know, because they were best friends.  Not because he had a crush or whatever.

“Mom and Dad are at a conference,” David said, coming around the corner with a pillow.  “But they said you can stay for as long as you want.  Sarah’s over at Swifty’s.  She said they’d both be over sometime tomorrow morning.”

“Thanks, Davey,” Jack replied, reaching for the pillow and putting it under his head.  “You’re a life saver, for real.  Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You could probably manage to play a basketball game without it turning into a fist fight,” David said with a frown as he crossed his arms.  “You want to talk about that at all tonight?”

Jack sat up and scooted over, making room as David sat down next to him.  “Not really,” he admitted, looking down and playing with a corner of his blanket.  

“I kind of thought that was the reason you came over,” David said.  “Or at the very least to apologize.”

Jack looked up at him, staring.  “What do I have to apologize for?”  

“Treating me like a child for one!” David snapped.  “I can take care of myself, you know.  I certainly don’t need you to protect me from my friends.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” Jack exclaimed, leaning over.  “One, Spot was being a huge jackass.  He was bullying you, Davey!  Were you at the same basketball game I was?  And two, Spot is _not_ your friend.  He’s not _anybody’s_ friend.”

“Well, that just hurts my feelings,” Spot said in a deadpan voice from behind Jack and David, causing them both to jump before whipping around.

“How the fuck did you even get in here!” Jack exclaimed, already getting off the couch to stand between David and Spot.  

Spot just shrugged at him, not moving from his spot.  “The door was open.”

“It was not!” Jack argued.  “I locked it behind me! I know I did!”

“So the door was open after I unlocked it,” Spot answered calmly.  “Who cares?  Stop fucking screaming.  Jesus, you’re annoying.”

That did nothing but make Jack scream more.  “I’m annoying!?  You just broke into someone’s house!  We should call the police!”

Spot raised an eyebrow, still as calm as ever.  “You’re going to call the police?  Jesus, Jack, you’re a fucking pussy,” he said before turning away.  “Shit, you’re not even a regular pussy.  You’re like a cat’s pussy.  A pussy’s pussy,” he grumbled.  “Fuck, it’s pathetic.”

“ _I’m_ pathetic!?” Jack exclaimed.  “I’m not the one running around like a crazy person, am I?  I’m not the one trying to break David’s arm so I’d come to his defense or whatever the fuck it was you were trying to do.  I’m-”

“You’re the one too chicken-shit to tell me you were defaulting,” Spot pointed out with a glare.  “ _You’re_ the one who’s too much of a pussy to tell David you wanna plow him, which is the only reason I was trying to break his arm in the first place.”

“I- I don’t want to plow him!” Jack exclaimed as his face turned bright red.  

“You told me you weren’t trying to hurt me!” David exclaimed at the same time.

Spot frowned at David.  “I never said that.”

“You _knew_ he was going to attack you?” Jack exclaimed, turning to David as well.  

“He didn’t attack me, Jack!” David argued back.  “We were playing basketball!”

“Yeah, _basketball_ , Davey!” Jack yelled.  “Not fucking football!  You’re not supposed to be shoving people around!”

“Everyone was fouling everybody else!  Why is it I’m the only one you’re concerned about?  Stop treating me like I can’t fend for myself!”

“I know you can!” Jack shouted back. “I just fucking care about you, you idiot!  Excuse me for not wanting you to get hurt!”

“So you can get hurt, and I can’t?  Is that it?  Because you can take a punch, but for some reason I’m too soft to be able to do the same?  What is it about me that makes you think I can’t look out for myself?” David exclaimed, flinging his arms out for emphasis.

“David, you idiot,” Jack yelled back.  “It’s not about whether or not I think you’re capable of handling yourself!  Why the hell do you think that someone loving you and caring about your well being is a bad thing?”

David stared at Jack for a beat, before Jack’s eyes widened.  

“This is turning out way gayer than I thought it would,” Spot muttered.  

“I didn’t mean that!” Jack shouted almost at the same time.  His eyes were still wide as he slapped his hands over his mouth.  “What I meant was-”

“No! No, no, no,” David replied, walking over to Jack and jerking his hands off of his mouth.  “You don’t get to just drop something like that on me, and then pretend like you didn’t say it!  And you,” he began, rounding onto Spot as he thrust a finger in his direction, “You can just shut the hell up, because you are not ruining this for me!”

Spot crossed his arms as he glared at David.  When he didn’t flinched he rolled his eyes.  “Don’t understand why you’re blaming _me_ for Jack’s inadequacies.”

David was content to ignore him.  

“David, please don’t overthink this like you always do,” Jack pleaded.  “Can we please just let it go?”

“No, Jack, I will not just ‘let it go’,” David snapped.  “No one _accidentally_ slips in an ‘I love you’ into the conversation unless they mean it!”

“David, I never said that!  That wasn’t what I ...” Jack trailed off.  “I mean, I know what it might have sounded like, but-”

“But what?” David snapped.  “Just spit it out, Jack.  Do you love me or not?”

“This is definitely way gayer than I thought it’d be,” Spot muttered to himself.

Jack heaved a sigh.  “You know I like you a lot, Davey, but …”

“Oh, just get the fuck out, Jack!” David snapped, shoving him back.  “Spot’s right: you are a fucking pussy,” he said before stomping up the stairs.

Jack stood staring at the floor as he listened to David’s angry movements fade away.  He snapped right back to attention as soon as he heard Spot’s sniggering.  “What the fuck about this do you think is funny?” he asked, striding up to Spot.

Spot was far from intimidated.  “Oh, I think everything about this is funny.”  He stopped laughing to look Jack up and down.  “Not only are you a pussy, but you’re a masochist as well.  What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What the fuck is wrong with _me_ ?” Jack snapped back.  “What the fuck is wrong with _you_?  You’re a fucking sadist who won’t even admit that he misses someone!  You run around getting yourself involved in things that aren’t any of your business.  Then you get all pissed when people don’t act like your fucking puppets.  Why the fuck are you even here?  And don’t say it’s because you were bored or because you thought it’d be funny.  I wanna hear the real fucking reason.”

“I’m here because you fucking left me, and I knew you’d come straight here,” Spot answered, no longer smirking.  He stared at the floor.   “I knew from the beginning that I wouldn’t be enough for you,” he admitted quietly.  “Should have known my dick wasn’t going to keep you in Brooklyn, but I always had hope.” He sniffed, still staring at the floor. 

Jack snarled before he threw a punch that Spot easily dodged.  “Stop making a joke out of everything, you fucking bastard!”

Spot leaned back to dodge another two blows Jack had aimed for him, not even bothering to put his hands up.  “You’re the one too chicken shit to go after what you want,” he pointed out, his smirk returning.  “How big of a pussy do you have to be not to tell the boy you like that you have faggy feelings towards him?”

“How big of a psychopath do you have to be to destroy an entire hotel because people don’t do what you want?” Jack snapped back, still flinging his fists wildly toward Spot.  

Spot rolled his eyes even as he continued to dodge Jack’s punches.  “Oh, dear, you really think I’m a psychopath?  Way to really cut me.  Never heard that one before.  Think I’m going to take a real, hard look at my life, and really-”  He cut himself off as he leapt out of the way as Jack lunged for him.  “Watch it, Jackie-Boy,” he warned, his eyes narrowed.  “Or I’m going to start thinking that you’re trying to be serious.”

“Everything’s a fucking game with you, isn’t it?” Jack exploded, flinging his arms out.  “You don’t take anything or anyone seriously!  And you think you own me!  You went so far as to track me down when I left!  You’ve never been quiet about what happens to people who don’t do what you want!  And you’re surprised that I don’t want to introduce a guy I care about into that life?”

Spot frowned and blinked at him for several seconds.  “Huh.  That’s interesting,” he finally muttered.  He scratched his chin and started pacing the room.  

So he was the reason Jack wasn’t going to date.  He briefly wondered if his other subordinates thought that way before quickly shaking off the thought.  Whether they were or weren’t wasn’t really his problem.  He had other things to deal with that were more important.  

He had to win that bet.

“Alright, fine,” Spot finally said, turning to Jack.  “If I’m the only thing keeping you from dumping all your fag feelings onto that nerd then prove it.”

Jack glared at him, still trying to control his breath from all the haphazard punches he had thrown before.  “Prove it how, you fucking genius?  What the fuck are you even saying?”

Spot rolled his eyes.  “I’m saying you’re released, you fucking dumbass.  I’ll let you leave the gang with no threat to your life or loss of limbs.”  He snorted.  “As long as you prove you aren’t a pussy and ask that faggot upstairs to go out with you.”

Jack’s eyes grew.  “You can’t be serious,” he replied quietly.  “What the- … Just what the fuck is _wrong_ with you?”

Spot crossed his arms.  “Can’t help it if I’m a romantic at heart, can I?”

“You don’t expect me to _buy_ that garbage, do you?” Jack shot back fiercely.  “Exactly what are you playing at here?”  He glared before his eyebrows rose in understanding.  “You don’t think I’ll do it, do you?  You think I’m going to pussy out, and then I’ll _have_ to come back to the gang with no complaints because my excuse for quitting is gone.  That’s it, isn’t it?”

Spot shrugged.  “Gotta admit, Jackie-Boy, betting on the fact that you’re a pussy is a pretty safe one.  Can’t blame a guy for investing in a safe bet.”

Jack narrowed his eyes again.  “I’ll show you who’s a pussy,” he challenged before whirling around and charging up the stairs, calling out David’s name.

Spot rolled his eyes.  For someone who was constantly calling him out on playing people, Jack was sure easy to play.  He looked at the time: 10:23.  It was still the same day, which meant that, despite the initial hiccough in his plan, he _was_ going to win the bet.

He sighed as he let himself out through the front door, not bothering to lock it behind him.  He should have known something like this was going to happen after Stealth’s stupid premonition.  That asshole was always fucking right.  

But, still, he had won, and that was what was important.  

* * *

“Ha!  I knew you couldn’t have fucking won!” Skittery announced with glee, snatching Spot’s freshly acquired money from his hand as soon as Jack entered the kitchen for breakfast.    

“Why the fuck are you here?  What the fuck did you do, you fucking pansy ass fuck?” Spot burst out, leaping from his chair as he glared at Jack.  “I practically walked you through the door and into David’s fucking arms last night.  How the _fuck_ did you manage to fuck it up?”

Jack glared around the table before heading to the fridge.  “I thought you all agreed to drop this stupid ass bet,” he muttered angrily.  “Didn’t you agree to stop fucking around in my life?”

“Racetrack agreed,” Spot answered, looking at his boyfriend’s frowning face from across the table.  “I did no such thing.  And it’s your fault anyway.  If you’d have fucking done it right you wouldn’t be here to complain about it.”

“I did do everything fucking right,” Jack snapped as he took out the butter and set it on the counter.  He reached over to get two pieces of bread and popped them in the toaster.  He stared hard at it before finally grumbling, “He said he wasn’t interested.”

Skittery was the first one to reply.  “Huh.  Gotta be honest with ya, I was _not_ expecting that one.  Why the fuck’s he making moon eyes at you all the time if he doesn’t wanna be fucked?”

“Because Jack somehow fucked it up,” Spot answered, glaring at the boy in question.  “After all my hard work you just pissed the fuck all over it.”

“What the hell is it that you think you did?” Jack snapped back, finally whirling around to face the table.  “You just ran around cursing and breaking shit like a fucking crazy person!  How the fuck do you think that helped?”

“I think I did everything!” Spot shouted, leaping up from his chair as he pointed at Jack.  “I did a hell of a lot more than you did, that’s for sure!  And after all my hard work you just ruined everything!”

“What hard work?” Jack screamed back, his voice shrill.  “Because all you fucking managed to do was lose me my best friend!  He doesn’t even want to speak to me anymore, you giant piece of shit.”

Spot made it across the room in three strides and punched Jack in the mouth.  He glared at him for a few seconds before spinning around and walking out of the kitchen.  “Maybe if you didn’t fucking talk you wouldn’t keep ruining everything for yourself,” he grumbled.

Skittery looked at the now empty doorway before looking back to Jack’s crumbled form on the floor.  “Now, _that_ I did expect.”

Racetrack rolled his eyes before standing up from the table himself.  “I’ll go check on Sean.  You make sure Jack’s okay,” he commanded before walking out.

Skittery watched him leave before he was back to looking at Jack, still unmoving on the floor.  “Oi, Jack, what were you making before Spot fucked you all up?  Cause I would _not_ be upset about you making me some scrambled eggs.”

* * *

Specs rubbed his head.  “I don’t really know what you’re trying to get at here, David,” he admitted.  “I thought you _liked_ Jack.” 

“Whether or not I _like_ Jack isn’t the point!” David pointed out, finally halting his pacing as he fumed at Specs.  “It’s just …”  He frowned as the glare slipped from his face.  He sighed as he dropped on his bed so he was sitting next to his friend.  “Whether or not I like him, and whether or not he likes me, that still doesn’t change the fact that he’s ashamed of it.”

Specs put his hand on David’s shoulder as he tried not to squirm.  He didn’t want to tell his best friend that he understood Jack’s side a little too well.  He wasn’t particularly against the idea of keeping things quiet.  Not that he was about to tell David that, of course.  He was getting _a lot_ better at keeping his mouth shut about opinions like _that_.  

“What’s the point of being in a relationship with someone who’s adamant about pretending it doesn’t exist when we aren’t behind closed doors?” David asked, his head in his hands.  “How am I supposed to be okay with that?  He thinks I can just stand by while he goes traipsing off on dates with cheerleaders?  That I’ll just be waiting around until whenever it’s convenient for him to come over?”

Specs held back another urge to squirm.  That sounded like a pretty good life, if he was honest.  He wondered if Dutchy would agree to something like that.  The guy wasn’t nearly as melodramatic as David.  Maybe he would take the suggestion in stride.

“I don’t understand what he was thinking,” David continued.  “He didn’t take my feelings into account whatsoever.  Even if he was scared to come out of the closet he shouldn’t have acted like I would willingly go back into one for him.  And I can’t believe he would have the audacity to even _ask_ me to.  It’s like he doesn’t even know me.  I’m not even sure I can be _friends_ with a guy like that.”  He leapt off the bed as he started back up his pacing.

Specs frowned.  So maybe he wouldn’t ask Dutchy to mimic Jack’s suggested arrangement after all.  He listened while David listed all the reasons Jack had slighted him and sighed.

So much for all of them being together again.  

 

TBC


	4. PUSSY: Pretty Unimaginative Special Situations, Yeah?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Spetchy Time!

Dutchy smiled as Specs sucked on his neck.  “Mm … thought you said you didn’t want to do this anymore unless it was a special circumstance.”

Damn, he probably shouldn’t have reminded Specs that he had said that.  For some reason Dutchy could never help but shoot himself in the foot. 

“This  _ is  _ a special circumstance,” Specs muttered, not slowing down.  

Dutchy didn’t think that nine o’clock on a Saturday morning could be described as a special circumstance.  In fact, he wouldn’t even consider it  _ convenient _ , seeing as he had woken up way too early on a weekend just so he could break them into an abandoned movie theater.  

Still, Specs’ tongue was on his neck, and he had some real trouble being angry about anything.  He felt Specs’ hand hovering on the button of his pants before it traveled back up to his chest.  He couldn’t hide the groan that escaped him, but Specs was either deciding to ignore it or taking it as encouragement.  

Dutchy knew this wasn’t Specs playing hard to get, and he certainly wasn’t teasing.  No, the other boy was genuinely afraid of Dutchy’s cock. Not that Dutchy could blame him.  He had to admit his little buddy _was_ probably pretty scary, especially if you were used to messing around with a vagina. 

An act that Specs had no problem reminding him that he’d participated in loads of times.  

Still, understanding did nothing to make him feel better about walking around with cum running down his leg.  

He smirked again.  He’d just had the bright idea this morning of dumping an extra pair of pants and boxers into his bookbag.  He was pretty proud of himself for the solution to his problem. 

So, act completed (Specs’ cum in his stomach and his own cum soaking into his pants) he was a little perturbed when Specs began freaking out.  

“Wh-what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Specs asked, quickly going from blissed out to a nervous wreck within milliseconds.  

Dutchy forced himself to stop staring and start thinking.  A nervous Specs was a sexy Specs, after all, and he had a really hard time thinking around a sexy Specs.  He looked down at the pants now around his ankles and it finally dawned on him. “Oh, no, I wasn’t going to stick it in or anything,” he assured with an easy smile.  “I just wanted-”

“Where the hell were you going to  _ stick it _ ?” Specs interrupted, his eyes impossibly wide.  

“No, no,” Dutchy answered, waving his hands in front of him.  “I said I  _ wasn’t  _ going to stick it anywhere.  You aren’t ready for that, and I know that, so-”

“I’m not  _ ready  _ for it?” Specs burst out, his eyes getting even wider. 

Dutchy’s eyebrows shot up.  “Are you saying you  _ are  _ ready for it?”  His chest expanded as it filled with hope.  Oh, my god, was this it? Was this the moment he was to lose his virginity? Was this the moment he had dreamed of as a little boy?  Dutchy frowned. Well, maybe not as a  _ little  _ boy, but had been dreaming of since being a small, awkward preteen.

“No!” Specs burst out, breaking Dutchy out of his thoughts.  “I’m never going to be ready for- I’m not interested in-” He scrambled up, giving Dutchy a wide berth as he made for the door that would lead him out of the movie theater and back onto the street.  “I just remembered there’s something I’ve gotta do. I’ll see you later.”

Dutchy stared after him as the other boy barreled through the door, Dutchy’s pants still around his ankles and cum still running down his leg.  “But,” he said quietly, “you said you’d hang out with me all day.” 

* * *

“Dutchy, I for real don’t want to hear about your pants or whatever it is,” Bumlets muttered, cracking open an eye to look at his friend hovering above him.  “It’s too early for this shit.”

Dutchy rolled his eyes.  “The pants aren’t the _point_!” he snapped.  “The _point_ is what the pants made _happen_!”

“You haven’t talked about anything  _ besides  _ the pants, Dutchy,” Bumlets replied, closing his eyes and burrowing himself farther into the blankets.  

“Bumlets!  Your best friend is going through a crisis here, and it’s pretty shitty of you to not care at all!” Dutchy snapped.  “Do you not care about me, is that it? You’d rather I just sit and stew on all these negative feelings rather than bother you?”

“I know  _ I’d  _ like it very much if you went with that option,” Bam replied, popping up on his elbow so he could glare across Bumlets at Dutchy.  “How the fuck did you even get in here?”

“It’s not like this place is very secure,” Speed answered, jumping down from his bunk bed and frowning at Dutchy.  “We’ve just been running on the assumption that no one is retarded enough to be wandering into the headquarters of Brooklyn’s top gang.”

“Speed, meet Dutchy,” Bumlets muttered before sighing and sitting up.  

“Don’t know why the fuck we have to put up with either of you, since neither of you are even doing the nasty with Bam yet,” Hunter grumbled as he strolled in dripping wet with just a towel slung around his hips.  

“I don’t  _ want  _ to have sex with that,” Bam snapped, glaring over at Dutchy before throwing an arm across Bumlet’s chest from behind and pulling him close to his chest.  “And my baby’s allowed to take as much time as he needs to feel comfortable, you asshole.” 

“Buuuuuuuumleeeeeets,” Dutchy whined, bouncing up and down on the soles of his feet.  “You aren’t paying attention to me!”

“Can we talk about your choice in best friends, though?” Bam mumbled in his ear.  

“Will one of you just take him out of here,” Speed snapped, glaring over at all three boys.  “Do I need to remind you all that Gadget’s still injured and needs as much rest as possible?”

That turned everyone but Hunter somber.  “I’d try the lobby on the third floor. It’s pretty nice for threesomes,” he suggested.

“As if you could ever get even one person to agree to have sex with you,” Bam replied before gently pushing Bumlets off the bed.  He quickly followed suit. “C’mon, let’s go find a place to talk if it’s inevitable,” he suggested. “And, next time, maybe think about going to see Skittery first, huh?" he asked, glaring at Dutchy.  "Cause I might have let them kill you if Bumlets hadn’t been there.” He held up his hands as soon as he caught Bumlets’ frown. “Kidding, babe. C’mon, course I’m kidding.”

He went back to glaring at the back of Dutchy’s head as soon as his future boyfriend turned his head.  

He had absolutely not been kidding.

* * *

Jack woke up to someone poking his forehead and whispering his name.  He slowly opened his eyes only to jerk awake when he saw a face way too close to his.  He reared back and punched before thinking about it. 

“Mother fucking fuck!” Specs burst out, holding his eye as the momentum from Jack’s punch sent him stumbling backwards.  “What the fuck is it about people punching me in the god damn face?”

“Who the hell gets that close to someone’s face while they’re sleeping?” Jack shouted back.

“I was trying to be courteous to your other roommates because they were still sleeping,” Specs explained with equal volume.  “Excuse me for trying to be a nice guy.”

Jack looked around the room at the mention of his roommates and realized he had quite a few glares being directed towards him.  He rolled his eyes before forcing himself out of bed. “Let’s go the fuck upstairs then, I guess, if you insist on being so loud.”  He brushed past Specs without waiting for him to catch up. “Pretty sure those roommates you were being so courteous to want to kill both of us,” he grumbled to himself.

“What the hell are you doing sleeping so late anyway?” Specs asked as he followed behind him.  “Aren’t you and Skittery constantly complaining about what a tyrant Spot is? He can’t be that bad if he’s letting you sleep until after ten o’clock.”

“It’s fucking Saturday, Specs,” Jack immediately snapped, still walking up the stairs.  “And I’ve been waking up at six in the god damn fucking morning all day this week. Saturday is the one fucking morning we all get a break and you’re waking me up and screaming and shit before noon.”   

“Okay, first, I was  _ not  _ screaming,” Specs insisted, running up the stairs after Jack.  “Second, I wouldn’t have come here if it wasn’t important, ya dick.”

“And you just had to come to  _ me  _ about this important shit?  You had to come all the way to Brooklyn and wake me up?” Jack asked as he led them into the kitchen and plopped down on one of the seats at the kitchen table.  “You couldn’t have just given me a phone call I could have ignored until I was actually awake?” He laid his head on the table as he waited for Specs to sit down across from him.  

“I thought it would be best to have this conversation in person so there wouldn’t be any-” Specs paused with a frown before deciding that Jack would understand where he was coming from.  They were, after all, comrades in arms. “... so there wouldn’t be any evidence,” he finished in a whisper.

That made Jack pop his head up.  “Specs, you little shit,” he replied with a grin, “you kill someone and need help hiding the body?”

“What? No.  What the fuck, Jack?” Specs answered immediately.  He ran a hand through his hair. “How the fuck is that the first thing your mind jumps to?  Why would you think-? And why the hell would that make you _smile,_ you deranged fuck?” He cut himself off with a shake of his head. “You know what? Nevermind.  That’s not important.”

“Then what  _ is  _ important?  Can we get to that part so I can get the fuck back to sleep, please?” Jack asked, putting his head back down on the table.   

“Jack, believe it or not, I  _ am  _ trying to help you, okay?” Specs asked, finally taking a seat across from the other boy.  “And you should also know that you don’t make it fucking easy,” he confessed without hesitation, “because you’re such a dick about everything.”

“Gee, thanks, Specs.  I am  _ so  _ glad you woke me up just to insult me,” Jack snapped, not bothering to raise his head.  “Can I go back to bed now?”

“Oh.  My. God.  You are  _ so  _ annoying,” Specs complained, rolling his eyes.  “Excuse  _ me  _ for assuming that your relationship with David was more important than an hour of extra sleep.”

Jack popped his head up again, mentally kicking himself for forgetting that Specs hung out with David practically everyday.  “Why? Did he say something about me?” he asked, leaning over the table towards Specs.

Specs blinked at him.  “Well, he no longer curses your name, if that’s what you mean.”  He blinked again before biting the inside of his cheek. “He might still, actually, now that I think about it.  Just not around me.”

“How the hell do you think any of this is helpful!” Jack snapped.  “Would you just get to the damn point already?” He glared at the other boy.  “Unless the entire point of you coming to wake me up was so that you could make fun of me, in which case I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Alright, Jackie, let’s calm down,” Specs urged, holding up his hands as Jack stood up from his chair.  “This is a delicate subject; excuse me for trying to approach it with a certain amount of tact.”

“You have no tact,” Jack pointed out.  “And you couldn’t possibly piss me off anymore than you already are, so just spit it the fuck out.”

“I need to talk to you about your relationship with David,” Specs replied quietly, leaning over the table towards Jack in order to make sure no one could hear them.  “I need to know what you said to make him hate you so that Dutchy doesn’t end up hating me.”

“What the fuck, you little shit?” Jack burst out, shooting out of his chair as he glared at the other boy.  “What the fuck kind of a question is that? Who the fuck asks someone that? You trying to piss me off?”

“I’m trying to get us to a point where we’re helping each other,” Specs answered, standing up as well.  He held up his hands, hoping Jack would calm down. “We both want the same thing with different people. Why shouldn’t we help each other to ensure that we’re both getting what we want?

Jack clenched his teeth before sighing and rubbing his forehead.  “You have done nothing but piss me off and confuse me since you woke me up.  What the hell are you talking about?”

Specs bit the inside of his cheek.  “You aren’t really going to make me say it, are you?” he asked, voice strained as he glanced at the other boy. 

Jack just raised an eyebrow.  

“C’mon, Jack,” Specs whined.  “You with David, and me with Dutchy.  I want what you want.”

“And what, _exactly_ , is it that I want?” Jack asked in a deadly quiet voice.  

Specs groaned as he looked up to the ceiling.  “I don’t know why you’re trying to make this process so difficult.”  He sighed before looking back at Jack, his face determined. “Alright, look,” he said, forcing out each word, “what you have with David is special, right?  You care about him a lot,  _ maybe  _ more than a typical straight man, but that doesn’t mean you  _ aren’t  _ a straight man, right?  Not that that’s something other people are ever going to understand, so you want to kind of keep it under wraps, right?  But, at the same time, being a heterosexual male David will never be able to fulfill your sexual needs, on account of him being another man and all.  So, while you want to be with David, you still want some female side action, in order to make sure all your needs are fulfilled. But David doesn’t understand any of that, on account of the fact that he’s a homosexual man, and all he needs is you.  But we aren’t like that, are we, Jack? We need more than just a man in order to quench our full sexual desire, right?” He stopped his rant to smile at Jack, knowing that the other boy would without a doubt be on the same page. His smile dropped as soon as he saw Jack’s bright red face. 

“I-I do not  _ desire  _ David!” Jack snapped before quickly turning around.  “I just remembered I gotta do something. Talk to you later, Specs,” he quickly added, not turning around to look at Specs as he practically ran from the kitchen.  

Specs continued to frown at the door minutes after Jack had left.  He had been so sure he had a comrade in arms in Jack, but he really couldn’t make heads or tails of what had just happened.  

* * *

“I don’t understand what it is you want me to say here,” Bumlets confessed as soon as Dutchy was done telling his friend about his morning.  

They had decided to congregate in the second story living room.  Bumlets and Bam shared the small couch as Dutchy sat across from them on a loveseat.  Between them sat a coffee table that was only still standing because its missing leg had been replaced by textbooks.  

“Some sympathy would be nice as a start,” Dutchy mumbled as he glowered at the other two sitting too close together on the couch.  

“Sympathy for what?  Your idiocracy?” Bumlets snapped back.  “I told you Specs was homophobic when you decided that you just  _ had  _ to seduce him.  I told you it would end badly for you, and now that something bad happened you want me to sympathize with you?  How can I when I was the one warning you that this kind of thing was going to happen?”

“Well, admittedly, actual help would be better than sympathy,” Dutchy replied back, “You can absolutely skip the sympathy if you provide me with an actual plan of attack here.”

“Haven’t you guilt-tripped me into helping you with that little shit enough already?” Bumlets bit back.  “What the hell makes you think I want to keep doing this?”

“There’s gotta be something we haven’t tried yet,” Dutchy muttered, content to ignore his best friend’s griping.  

“You try playing hard to get yet?” Bam asked as he rolled his eyes.  

Dutchy’s eyes lit up before jumping over the coffee table and giving the other boy a hug.  In the process his knee bumped into the corner of the table and sent it crashing down as it slipped off the pile of textbooks it was using as a leg.  Dutchy didn’t seem to notice. 

“That is so, so, SO brilliant, Whoever-You-Are!” Dutchy exclaimed as he pulled out of the hug and ran for the door.  “I gotta go get ready!” he added by way of explanation before he was gone from sight. 

Bam blinked at Dutchy’s retreating back before putting an arm over Bumlets’s shoulder.  “Jesus, I really hope none of your other friends are that god damn stupid.” He shrugged his shoulders at the other boy’s glare.  “What?” he asked with a frown, “You going to try to tell me that guy  _ wasn’t  _ fucking dumb?”

* * *

Racetrack was busy trying to glue back a chair Spot had broken in one of his tirades when he saw Speed walk past.  He immediately leaped up to follow him. “Speed, hold up,” he demanded, grabbing the other boy’s arm. 

Speed sighed as soon as he heard Racetrack’s voice.  “I don’t wanna get into it,” he said, shrugging off Race’s hand and still heading toward the front lobby door.  

“Get into what?” Racetrack shot back as he followed him out the door.  

“ _ It _ ,” Speed replied.  “Whatever the hell  _ it  _ is.  I don’t wanna get into it.  So, for the love of everything, please keep me out of it.”  He headed out the lobby doors, his shoulders sagging as soon as he heard Racetrack following him.  

“I just had some questions is all,” Racetrack explained.  He jogged a bit in order to start walking side by side the other boy.  

“Questions I assume I’m not going to want to answer,” Speed said, quickening his space.  

“Already know that, huh?” Racetrack asked with a smirk.  “And what do you think these questions are about, exactly?”

Speed forced himself not to roll his eyes.  “Spot. Your desire to be with him. Your fear of being with him.  What kind of person he is. What kinds of things a person like that is capable of.  Is he worth it? Will you be okay? Does he care about you?” Speed finally rolled his eyes, unwilling to suppress the urge any longer.  “And on and on and on until I’m ready to blow my god damn brains out.”

“Oh.”  Racetrack paused just a moment at the exact hit Speed had easily placed on him, but didn’t falter in his steps.  He quickly recovered. “Well, if you’ve already got a handle on all the questions, at least this’ll be fast.”

Speed quickly whirled on him.  “Just because I know what you’re thinking and worrying about and all that other crap doesn’t mean I’m going to help you,” he said, his eyes narrowed.  “As far as I’m concerned, all you are is a distraction.” He quickly looked around before lowering his voice. “At least Slingshot had something to bring to the table,” he whispered, knowing that he didn’t want Spot hearing that name.  “All you are is a heap of trash in the living room I’m not allowed to take out to the dumpster.” He swept back around and continued on his path. 

Racetrack didn’t follow him this time.  

* * *

Specs groaned after his third attempt to contact Dutchy had failed just like the others.  Where the hell was he? They were supposed to spend the day together. And, it wasn’t like Specs hadn’t taken off on him before after a promised day together.  Dutchy typically waited by the phone all day until Specs was finally ready to reunite with him again. 

The kid loved him, that much was certain.  And before the three calls that all went to voicemail he had been certain that if anyone was going to successfully implement Jack’s brilliant plan it was going to be him.  Just because David wasn’t willing to let Jack date girls while doing whatever didn’t mean that Dutchy would feel the same way.

But now he was confused.  Dutchy wasn’t acting like himself, and, Specs had to admit, he wasn’t well versed in gay culture, being straight and all.  Luckily, he knew someone who was. Maybe Dutchy was being out of character in order to tell him something. There was really only one way to find out. 

Specs slipped his phone back in his pocket (deciding to forego a fourth call to Dutchy) and knocked on David’s door.  

He forced a smile on his face when it was Sarah who answered the door.  Sarah didn’t return the favor. 

“Specs,” she greeted with a frown.  “David’s not really ... “ Her frown deepened as she paused.  “He wasn’t expecting you,” she finally decided to say. 

Specs cocked his head to the side when he wasn’t immediately invited in.  “Well, no, he wouldn’t. It’s a bit of an impromptu visit.”

“Yeah, well, David isn’t a fan of _impromptu_ visits,” Sarah replied, going to close the door.  

Specs stopped her, grabbing onto the door before it shut.  “That’s never been a problem before,” he pointed out. 

“Yeah, well, it’s a problem now,” Sarah replied, trying once again to close the door.  

“What the hell’s up your ass?” Specs muttered, making sure Sarah wouldn’t be able to hear him.  “Davey! Get down here please!” he yelled over Sarah’s shoulder. “I need you!”

Sarah shoved him away from the doorway.  “That was right in my ear,” she growled. “I already told you, ‘David is not up for taking visitors right now,’ so kindly fuck off.”

“Did you just cuss at me?” Specs asked, his eyes wide.  

Sarah narrowed her eyes.  “Is that the only thing you took from that?”

Specs scratched his chin.  “No, no, I heard quite a bit of that older-sister-protectiveness thing you have practically leaking out of your ears.  I see it, don’t exactly understand it, though.” He frowned as he took a step towards Sarah. “Sarah, I know I haven’t been the best friend to David in the past, but I really do consider the guy my best friend.  So if there’s something going on, even if I can’t know about, I would at least like to know how I can help.”

Sarah sighed, letting the door open a little wider.  “I couldn’t tell you what’s going on,” she admitted. “I just know he’s upset.  He’s been upset since I got home yesterday afternoon, and I don’t think he’s come out of his room since.” 

“Oh,” Specs said, his eyes going wide.  “Yesterday afternoon, huh? I think I know what happened.  Didn’t realize it would cause so much upset though.”

Sarah rose her eyebrows.  “You do know what happened then?”

“Kind of,” Specs admitted, giving a theatrical sigh.  “I mean, I do know what’s going on, but the whole thing is so unbelievably complicated.”  He gave another sigh as Sarah opened the door wider, curiosity getting the better of her. “I’m just not sure he’d want me getting into all of it with you,” he said, leaning back so Sarah would lean forward.  

“I just want to know what’s going on with my brother,” Sarah admitted quietly, taking a step outside to get closer to Specs.  

Specs wasted no time when he saw the opening.  He pulled Sarah out the door, not bothering to turn around when he heard her fall onto the porch.  He ran passed her and darted up the stairs. “Be sure to let you know when I do! Thanks!” He called out from behind his shoulder.  He wasted no time approaching David’s room, not even bothering to knock as he burst into the room. “Davey, listen, I know you’re upset or whatever, but let’s focus on my problems, and then we can deal with whatever you’ve got going on.”  His face fell as he finally took in the state of his best friend. “Oh, shit,” he muttered to himself, suddenly realizing that maybe this hadn’t been the best idea. 

David sniffed before quickly wiping away the tears that had been streaming down his blotchy, red face.  “Now’s not a good time, Specs,” he said calmly, despite the fact that he sounded nasally and snotty. “Let’s talk tomorrow,” he suggested before sniffing again.  

“Fuck that,” Specs breathed out, his eyes wide.  “We’re talking right now.” He closed the door behind him, shutting out the shouting that was now going on downstairs courtesy of Sarah.  He went ahead and pulled a chair under the door knob as an extra barrier, sure that it wouldn’t be long until Sarah would be up here as well.  He strode across the room and plopped himself next to David on his bed. “So, what’s going on, champ?” he asked, throwing his arm across Davey’s shoulder and pulling him to his chest.  “Who am I beating up?”

“I don’t want you beating up anyone,” David muttered into Specs’ chest.  “It’s my own fault I feel like this. I just wanted to spend the next couple of days being sad, is all.  To give me time to process everything, and then maybe I could go back to feeling normal.”

Specs froze as realization hit him.  “This is about Jack.”

David rose his head from his best friend’s chest and blinked up at him.  “Who else would it be about?”

“I just,” Specs bit his lip and shrugged, trying to find the right words.  “If it meant so much to you then why didn’t you just let Jack have his way.  I thought you were the one that threw him out or whatever.”

David immediately jerked away from his friends.  “Because his plan completely belittled my feelings and wants!” he snapped.  He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t understand why you have such a hard time processing this,” he muttered before clenching his teeth and preparing an explanation.  He sighed one more time before beginning. “How would you feel if a girl you liked, and you thought liked you, told you that, yes, she did like you, but she would be kind of embarrassed about dating you, so she’s perfectly willing to date you secretly, but she’s going to have to go out with other guys so no one suspects anything.  And those guys probably won’t mean anything to her, but she can’t actually promise on that one, because she can’t predict the future. And imagine she told you all of that flatout and nonchalantly, like, obviously, that shouldn’t be a problem for you. Go ahead and tell me that you wouldn’t be upset about that, especially when, above anything else, you’ve valued this girl as a friend.”

Specs blinked at his friend, not at all happy to notice that he was crying again.  “But, Davey, that’s not … I mean, you have to understand that you and Jack ... “ He bit his lip before trying again.  “They aren’t exactly the same scenario, you know?”

“Because I’m a man and don’t deserve to have feelings?” David asked, frowning at his friend.  “Or because we’re both men, and, obviously, that’s something someone should be ashamed of?”

Specs didn’t think it was a wise move to answer, but he definitely thought it was the latter option.  Luckily, it seemed David wasn’t waiting for an answer. 

“I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to wrap your head around, but that scenario is no different than my scenario, except the girl is actually Jack.  And I know you have no sympathy for me, so I don’t even know why you’re here,” David finished. 

Specs sighed as he thought of something else to say.

“I’m going for a walk,” David announced despondently.  “Feel free to see yourself out while I’m gone,” he said before taking his chair away from the door and leaving his own room.   

* * *

"You busy?” Racetrack asked as he found Bumlets and Bam sitting on the lounge sofa watching some news program.  

Bam shot a look to Bumlets before he realized that the question was being directed at him.  He rose his eyebrows as he looked back to the newest second-in-command. “I’m not giving you the talk,” he answered.

Racetrack’s eyes widened.  “I don’t need the talk,” he hissed.  “It’s not like I don’t know how everything works!” he snapped.  “I just wanted to talk to you about Sean.”

Bam smirked up at him.  “My dude, around here, that  _ is  _ the talk.  I expect Spot’s shown you every single thing a bird can do to a bee at this point.”

Racetrack colored as he frowned.  “I showed him a few things, too,” he muttered, crossing his arms.  

Bumlets was looking between the two other boys.  “I don’t get it,” he admitted. “Why the hell does Sean have to be a talk at all?”

“Because Spot’s a little deranged,” Bam answered, throwing an arm over Bumlets, “and, eventually, all the recruits wonder if it’s a good-protecting type of deranged or a bad-throw-them-into-the-line-of-fire-and-get-them-killed type of deranged.  They always ask the top brass since they figure we’re closest to him, so we’d know the best. And if we like them we’ll tell them Spot has their back, and if we don’t then we’ll just tell them a couple horror stories.” He shrugged. “It’s never really seemed to have mattered much, and Slingshot never asked a question like that, so I’m not really prepared to answer it honestly.”  He shrugged again. “Sorry, dude.”

Racetrack frowned at him.  “So, then, can I ask, why do you stay here?  What’s your reason for not leaving?”

Bam shrugged yet again as he pulled Bumlets closer to himself.  “Here’s home. Guess I’ve gotten used to it.”

Bumlets shrugged out of his hold to fix him with a quizzical look.  “So you wouldn’t be opposed to leaving?”

“Of course I would,” Bam answered.  “I’m not the type to be leaving home.  I expect I’ll be here until I die, and I’ll die whenever it is that Spot wants me to.”

Bumlets scooted farther back from him as he frowned.  “That sounds completely deranged.”

Bam shrugged before smirking.  “Well, that’s just the thing of it, isn’t it?  Whether or not we tell them Spot will be their savior or Spot is the devil, it’s only ever the deranged ones that end up staying.”

* * *

“Davey!” Dutchy announced, running across the street toward his friend, more than happy to ignore the traffic and the honking horns he was causing.  

David’s eyes widened as he saw Dutchy almost cause a ten car pile up.  “Dutchy! That’s not a crosswalk!” he announced, darting out as close to the road as was safe in order to meet his friend.  “You’ve gotta look at where you’re going! You could have been run over!” 

“Oh, my god, Davey, that is so not important right now,” Dutchy bursts out, not stopping his run until he landed into his friend, causing them to both fall onto the sidewalk.  “Like, Bam just gave me the best idea ever! And I really think it will work! And I think it will work for you too! And, I thought, oh my god, if we do the plan together it’ll probably be doubly effective, which means doubly quick, and then I wouldn’t have to wait so long, and wouldn’t that be just, like, the sweetest thing in the whole world ever?”  He finally stopped talking long enough to beam down at his friend. 

David raised his head from the sidewalk and rubbed the spot that had made connection with the concrete.  “That … uh … sounds real promising, Dutchy. I’m not all that positive what you’re talking about though.”

“Our boyfriend problem,” Dutchy explained, his smile growing impossibly larger as he made no move to get off of David.  

David just frowned.  “I don’t  _ have  _ a boyfriend problem.”

“Oh, well, yeah, that’s true,” Dutchy answered, enthusiastically nodding his head.  “Our non-boyfriend problem, I should have said.”

The conversation was getting no clearer as far as David was concerned.  “I think you’re going to have to walk me through this one,” he admitted.  “Maybe we can go grab some coffee?”

“No time for coffee, Davey,” Dutchy replied.  “We’ve gotta implement this plan right away. I’ve already started on my end.  You haven’t talked to Jack today, have you?”

“No, I haven’t,” David admitted.  “In fact, I’d prefer not to think about Jack at all.”  He pushed against Dutchy who was still grinning on top of him.  “Can you get off me now?”

Dutchy’s eyes widened before he scrambled off.  He offered David a hand as soon as he was upright.  “Right, sorry, Davey. Sometimes I get excited. Still, it looks like you’re already doing your side of things, and that’s really good.  Shoot, I’m probably behind you now. You’re the one to beat, looks like!”

“You think you can let me in on what, exactly, it is I’m winning?”

“A boyfriend.  Duh!” Dutchy announced before throwing a wink and dashing down the street.  “I gotta go get ready!” he called behind his back. “I’ll talk to you soon, you stud!”

David just blinked after him.  He couldn’t help but wonder if Dutchy was hitting on him.  It took a few more seconds to decide that he should stop wondering and just call an expert in the field. 

Bumlets answered on the second ring.  “‘Lo?”

“I think Dutchy might want to sleep with me,” David blurted, cringing when he realized he probably should have gone for a softer opening.  He tried doubling back. “I mean, hey, Bumlets. Good morning! Did you-”

“Good morning.  I’m fine. I assume you are too.  The weather is nice today. Hear it’s supposed to be a hot one tomorrow,” Bumlets quickly rattled off.  “Now what about Dutchy?”

“It’s actually supposed to rain tomorrow.”

“Let’s keep on track, Davey,” Bumlets replied.  “Dutchy propositioned you?”

“Well, no,” David answered, feeling his face heat up.  “I mean, he didn’t come right out and say anything like that.  But … he … er … winked at me.”

“He winked at you?” Bumlets asked back, his voice deadpan.

“Okay, I know it sounds dumb,” David admitted, and it definitely did, especially when he said it aloud.  Yeah, the whole thing was dumb, and he was dumb, and now he was getting Bumlets involved in his dumbness.  “Just forget I said anything”

“David, I refuse to believe you called me up to tell me that Dutchy winked at you,” Bumlets replied.  “I need context, please.”

“It’s dumb,” David replied, biting his lip but continuing anyway.  “He just started talking about my boyfriend problem, and that he’d help me fix it.  He seemed really happy I hadn’t talked to Jack today, then he winked at me and ran off to go get ready or something.  I guess I’m just confused. Nothing really made sense.”

“That’s kind of Dutchy’s M.O,” Bumlets replied, and David was sure he could hear his friend’s eyeroll through the phone.  “More than likely it has something to do with playing hard to get, which is what Bam told him to do this morning.”

“Which was a joke!” David heard vaguely through the line.  

“You’re not allowed to talk anymore,” Bumlets answered back before his voice got clearer as he turns his attention back to David.  “My guess is that he wants you to join him in his new plan. Show solidarity with him or something.”

“I’m not playing hard to get with Jack,” David felt the need to clarify.  “I’m done with the guy. There was never anything there to begin with.” 

He heard Bumlets sigh into the phone.  “I know that, Davey. And I’m sure anyone with half a brain knows that as well, but Dutchy … well …”

“Uses maybe an eighth of his brain,” David heard in the distance, followed shortly after by, “What the hell did I just tell you about talking?”

“Should I call back later?” David asked, shifting on the sidewalk when it became apparent that Bumlets probably had better things to do than talk to him about Dutchy.  

“No, of course not, David,” Bumlets immediately answered back.  “Sorry. I’m just with Bam right now, and he insists on being a bit of a jackass.”

“Listen, if you’re with your boyfriend, then-”

“Not my boyfriend,” Bumlets immediately growled.  

David’s mouth dropped open, and he was glad Bumlets couldn’t see it, because he had been sure they were dating.  In fact, he felt sure that everyone thought they were dating. “Wait,” he stuttered, “so if you aren’t dating, then-”

“A conversation for another day, David,” Bumlets interrupted, sighing.  “Let’s focus on Dutchy first and make sure he’s not going to do something that’s going to affect you negatively, okay?  He asked about Jack?”

“Just if I’d talk to him today,” David answered, back to rubbing the knot on his head that had formed when he’d hit concrete.  “I told him I hadn’t, and he seemed really happy about it.”

“Well, I know you aren’t going to like to hear it, but the easiest way to get Dutchy off your back is to do the exact opposite of what he wants you to do.”

“So,” David began slowly, “that means I have to ...”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Bumlets argued immediately.  “But it would get Dutchy off your back faster if he saw you talking to Jack.” He paused for a second before continuing.  “But, you know, it’s your choice on which is the lesser of the two evils. I’m not telling you to do anything here, Davey.”

“Jack probably doesn’t even want to talk to me,” David mumbled before cringing at how needy that had sounded.  

Bumlets sighed once again, long and suffering.  “Are you really going to make me go into this, man?”  He sighed again when David didn’t answer him. “Jack’s a huge closet case, and you’re probably right in thinking he doesn’t deserve you.  The guy doesn’t admit to anything and cares way too much about his image and reputation.” Another sigh. “But he does genuinely like you.  Anyone that knows him can tell. So, yeah, I’m sure he wants to talk to you. The question should be do you want to talk to him?”

“I want him to stop being such a jackass,” David snapped.  He knew he sounded childish, and he wasn’t exactly proud of it, but, at this point, he was running out of that higher ground he was always trying to find.  

“Don’t we all,” Bumlets agreed.  “But it’s possible that’ll never happen.  It most certainly won’t happen if you keep refusing to talk to him.”

“I don’t understand how it’s my responsibility to-”

“It’s not,” Bumlets snapped.  “If you want to blow him off then blow him the fuck off.  I don’t give a fuck. I’m just saying that if your ultimate goal is to stop him from being a jackass to you then giving him the silent treatment probably isn’t going to help.  But calling him a jackass and explaining to him why he’s a jackass before punching him in the mouth might get him to see some reason.”

David took a few seconds to answer.  “I’m not punching Jack in the mouth,” he finally said.  

“Your call.  I’m not telling you what to do.  I’m not even saying that you should talk to him,” Bumlets pointed out.  “I’m just offering suggestions. Just think about it,” he said. “For now, I gotta go, but text me if you wanna have lunch or some shit tomorrow okay?  If you wanna talk more?”

David nodded his head before realizing Bumlets couldn’t see him.  “Yeah, I might like to do that,” he answered, forcing himself to swallow around the lump in his throat.  “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Good luck, Davey.  Talk to you soon.”

“Thanks.  Bye,” David replied, almost positive he was now speaking to an empty line.

* * *

"Would you compare me to Specs?” Jack asked as soon as he found Spot with the punching bag in the gym room on the first floor. 

“No,” Spot answered quickly as he thrust a straight right followed by a left hook at the punching bag in front of him.  He took two quick steps back as the the punching bag came back around before throwing a right roundhouse. “But that’s only because I don’t know who the fuck you’re talking about.”

“The guy that’s always hanging around Dutchy,” Jack clarified.  

“Don’t know who the fuck that is either,” Spot answered, throwing another two punch combination at the bag.  

“Specs thinks he and I are alike,” Jack said.  “He thinks the relationship I have with David is like the relationship he has with Dutchy, except the relationship he’s got is all fucked to shit, and the relationship David and I have is …”

Spot grabbed the bag to stop the swinging before glaring over at Jack.  “I’m confused,” he confessed, glaring over at Jack. “Does it look like I’m trying to hold a fucking counseling session in here or does it look like I’m trying to use the fucking gym?”

Jack shrugged, undeterred.  “Thought maybe you were using the gym as a counseling session.” 

“Hold the bag,” Spot demanded, rolling his eyes.  

Jack obeyed, not speaking again until Spot had started advancing on the bag with a series of punches and kicks he couldn’t keep up with.  “Am I being an asshole to David?”

“Everything about you  _ exudes  _ asshole, Jack,” Spot pointed out.

Jack glared at him.  “That isn’t helping.”

“Not trying to,” Spot admitted, still going at the bag.  “The only reason you’re in this mess in the first place is because you care too much about what people think.  Except all the people that fucking have all those pussy-ass feelings about you already know you’re in love with the fucking mouthy kid.  Shit, you wouldn’t even have to be here if you’d just own up to the fact that your dad is a felon and locked up in the prison system. Except you won’t, even though we both know you hate it here, because you’re a fucking pussy.”

Jack froze.  “How do you know about my dad?” he asked, his voice strained. 

“Who the fuck you take me for, Sullivan?” Spot asked, easily rattling off Jack’s last name.  “You think I don’t do research on the people I let into my home?”

Jack stood frozen, eyes wide as Spot stopped trying to attack the punching bag.  

“I never knew my father.  My mother died in a car crash caused by some drunk shit when I was five,” Spot admitted in a monotone.  “Then I was raised by her second husband’s son because her dick of a husband didn’t stick around for more than a couple months after that.  Bam got kicked to the curb as soon as he expressed an attraction to boys. Stealth’s parents physically abused him and locked him in a fucking closest the majority of his time at home.  Speed’s entire family were cokeheads, and he had to call social services on Gadget’s parents to get him out of there. Then he had to pay the foster family so they’d keep taking care of Gadet.  Slingshot …” Spot clenched his teeth, not meaning to mention the other boy, but unwilling to not complete the thought once he did. “Slingshot survived two abortions and then got shoved in a dumpster.”  He went right for the punching bag again, glad Jack was still holding it as anger surged through his body as he thought of his old second-in-command. He forced himself to follow through on his point. “Your story isn’t new, or especially tragic.  You’re just stuck in your own ass.”

Jack glared at him.  “Just because you know my last name and who my dad is doesn’t mean you know my situation.”

“I know your dad writes to you.  And I know that you ignore them. I know that you tell the state you live with your mom even though she disappeared on you years ago.  I know you were using Skitts and Itey and Bumlets for a place to stay successfully for years even while you happily ignored them at school.  I know you’re in love with your best childhood friend. And I know you’re a huge pussy,” Spot pointed out, not slowing down his movements as he attacked the punching bag, his voice and breath even.  “But if I’m leaving something out please let me know,” he added sarcastically. 

Jack’s glare intensified before he threw the punching bag at Spot.  He got inevitably angrier when Spot easily dodged it. “It’s so great you know all the facts,” he snapped.  “But that still doesn’t mean you fucking know anything. You don’t know how I feel about all of it or how it affected me.  And you never will, because you’re a deranged son of a bitch that’ll never actually feel anything.”

Spot just lifted an eyebrow.  “Then why are you still serving under me?”

Jack stormed out.

* * *

Bumlets met with David the very next day.  Admittedly, he wasn’t happy his friend had taken him up on the offer at such an early hour in the day (he was pretty sure he had said  _ lunch _ , god damn it ), but David was his friend, and if he wanted to meet him at ten in the morning on a Sunday then, god damn it, Bumlets was going to do it.

“So, you’ve come to a verdict then?” Bumlets asked, sliding into the seat across from David and holding a coffee cup from a competing restaurant.   

David sighed before running his hands through his hair.  “You know how rude it is to bring in coffee to a coffee shop?”

“That was a blatant subject change,” Bumlets pointed out before draining his cup.  “And that was the coffee I had to buy to get enough energy to get over here. I’m going to need another one so I have enough energy for this conversation.”

David frowned.  “If it’s too early for you-”

“I’m already up now,” Bumlets snapped before frowning.  “Sorry,” he quickly apologized as David’s face fell. “I was up for a long time with Bam last night.”  He rubbed at his chin. “I may not have had enough sleep last night, and I’m a tad grumpy, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to help you through your problem.”

“A problem that has nothing to do with you,” David pointed out.  “It’s not fair to ask for your help. I’m sure you have your own problems to deal with.  I can-”

“I’m happy to help you, Davey,” Bumlets interrupted, rolling his eyes.  “There’s no need to go all selfless and noble on me.”

David bit the inside of his cheek before sighing.  “All cards on the table?” he asked, looking across the table at his friend.  He waited for Bumlets to nod before answering. “I’ve got no idea what I’m doing or what course I should be taking here.”

Bumlets sighed.  “Well, I guess the best course of action to take is to decide what you want, and then decide if what you want is emotionally and logically go for you.”

“I know what I want,” David interrupted, “and I also know it’s not emotionally or logically good for me.  So what’s my next course of action?”

Bumlets shrugged.  “If you wanna act in a sane and mature manner?  You forget about it.”

* * *

As soon as Specs had knocked on Dutchy’s front door he had started to regret it, mostly due to the fact that Dutchy’s parents were convinced that he was trying to get their son into his bed.

Which, like, maybe he was, but they certainly didn’t have any proof of that.  

He had been ushered into the den where he had been sitting for over thirty minutes as Dutchy’s parents went upstairs to get him.  He knew from experience that Dutchy could be out the door within fifteen minutes between being woken up and called upon, so Specs knew that whatever was keeping him wasn’t his need to sleep.

Unless he really was over him for real.  Specs’ face fell pretty immediately at that thought, despite how unrealistic it might seem.  Shit, it could be real. It probably wasn’t, of course, but maybe his parents had said something.  What if they said something to get Dutchy to be straight again? 

He forced out a sigh before reminding himself that if something like that happened then it’d be a good thing.  If Dutchy was straight then they could be friends for real without any of this awkward weird shit, and wouldn’t that make their friendship ten times better?  Wouldn’t he feel more comfortable and safer around Dutchy if he was actually a self-proclaimed straight man?

But, then, what about their make out sessions?  Or Dutchy spending all that time telling him how hot he was?  Would that just be over if Dutchy had suddenly turned straight?  Obviously he would miss that; wouldn’t any straight guy? There wasn’t anything wrong with liking to be called pretty, after all.  And so what if maybe it turned him on a little when it was Dutchy saying it? That didn’t mean anything. He was a teenage boy; lots of things turned him on.  It certainly didn’t mean he was anything other than straight. 

It was probably his body reacting to Dutchy’s body.  In a totally straight, non-gay way. Because things like that happened all the time.  Like how girls’ cycles would sync up. What he and Dutchy had was probably something like that.  Only sexual. In a perfectly straight kind of way. 

“Hey, Specs,” Dutchy greeted with none of the usual excitement.  He had his hands stuffed in his pockets as he spoke to the floor, his parents hovering just inside the living room.  “Thanks for coming by, but maybe we can talk at school instead, okay?”

Specs blinked up at his friend.  “It’s already happening,” he whispered before leaping up and gripping Dutchy by the shoulders.  “You can’t do this to me. Dutch. C’mon.”

“I’m not doing anything to you,” Dutchy insisted, shooting a nervous glance over to his parents who were frowning at them both.  “Can we please talk about this at school?”

“By then it’ll be too late!” Specs yelled.  “You’ll find someone else and forget all about me!”

Dutchy’s eyes widened.  “Specs. I don’t think right now is a really good time to be talking about this,” he hissed out, trying to inconspicuously jerk his head towards his parents.

“What the hell was that?  Are you seizuring? Oh my god, what do I do?  Dutchy, I can’t lose you!” Specs shouted, gripping even tighter to Dutchy. 

“Alright, that’s it, I’ve heard enough!” Dutchy’s father finally interjected, putting himself between the two boys.  “You, get the hell out of my house!” he said, turning to glare at Specs. “And stay away from my son. It’s clear that you’re the one that’s been corrupting him, and putting all those weird ideas in his head.”

“What!?  No, I haven’t!” Specs argued, glaring back just as hard.  “He’s the one that’s been corrupting me! So you tell him to stop, because I’ve about had enough of it myself!  And he’s always been weird, so I don’t know how the hell you can blame me for that.”

“My son is not weird!” Dutchy’s father exclaimed.  “He’s a perfectly normal boy, and once you stay the fuck away from he’ll remember that!”

“Dutchy’s weird as fuck and that’s just how I like him!” Specs shouted back.  “You don’t get to change him just because you feel like something’s off! He’s perfect just the way he is!”

“Oh, Specs, that’s so sweet,” Dutchy gushed quietly.  Everyone in the room was happy to ignore him. 

“You don’t know the first thing about what you’re getting him into!” Dutchy’s father snapped.  “No son of mine is going to be turned into a faggot!”

“I told you, you stupid son of a bitch!  He’s already a faggot! He’s the one turning me into one!” Specs shouted back

“Specs!” Dutchy exclaimed.  “Do you really mean that? Do you love me now?”

“You don’t ask another man a question like that!” Dutchy’s dad shouted.  “Go to your room! And you!” he said, rounding back to Specs, “Get the fuck out of my house before I call the cops.”

“You think I want to stay in this shithole?  I was just here for Dutchy,” Specs snapped back.  “Let’s go,” he said, looking at Dutchy and jerking his head towards the door. 

Dutchy’s father immediately moved between them.  “You aren’t going anywhere with my son.”

“I wasn’t asking for your permission,” Specs growled before looking at Dutchy again.  “Are you coming or not?”

Dutchy looked at his father’s glare, his mother’s frown, and Specs’s expectant gaze.  “I’m not really good in these types of high-stress situations,” he admitted. “I’m sure we can all reach some kind of compromise.”  He looked at his father’s twitching eye, his mother’s downcast face, and Specs’s glare. “Okay, so no compromise then, huh?”

“I never raised you to be like this,” his father finally said.  “There will be no compromising. You go upstairs to your room right now, and we will not speak of this again.”

Dutchy blinked as he looked between his parents.  “But, Dad-”

“There will be no ‘buts’!” his dad exclaimed.

Specs couldn’t help but snicker.  “That’s too bad,” he muttered to himself, “Dutchy loves butts.”

“What are you still doing in my house?” Dutchy’s father growled, rounding onto Specs.  “Didn’t I tell you to get the hell out and stay away from my son?”

“Dad, please don’t talk to him like that,” Dutchy replied, taking a step forward. 

“You do not get to dictate how I speak in my own house,” his father snapped back.  “Go upstairs to your room right now or you can get the hell out too!”

Dutchy blinked at him.  “You … you’re kicking me out?”

“I’m telling you to get your ass upstairs!”

“Really?  Cause it sounds to me like you’re trying to kick him out for being gay,” Specs said, stepping inbetween the two of them.  

Dutchy’s eyes immediately widened.  “Oooh, you shouldn’t have said that,” he whispered. 

“My son is not … he’s not …” Dutchy’s father’s face became red as he struggled to finish the sentence. Eventually, he gave up trying and punched Specs instead.  “Didn’t I tell you to get the hell out of my house?

Specs immediately hit the floor with the force of the punch.  “What the fuck dude? I’m a minor, you fucking asshole!” he yelled, holding his face.

Dutchy’s quickly stepped over to Specs as his father threw a table lamp at the wall.  “Okay, okay, he’s leaving. We’re leaving,” he said, tugging Specs up and shoving him over to the front door.  “We’ll talk-” He flinched at the sound of more glass breaking. “We’ll talk,” he said before stumbling through the front door and speed walking away from his house, pulling Specs behind him. 

TBC


	5. CRAP: Certainly a Realistic, Actual Partnership

“Hey, Dutchy,” Specs said, nudging the boy who was sleeping beside him in his twin bed.  “C’mon. We have to get up for school.”

Dutchy only pressed his body closer to Specs.  “People who’ve been disowned don’t have to go to school,” he muttered.  

Specs sighed as he rolled his eyes, caught between being exasperated and feeling pity.  “Okay, for the the hundredth time, you did not get disowned yesterday. Never once was that word spoken,” he replied.  “Not only that, but, even if you _had_ been disowned, you do actually still have to go to school. So get the fuck out of my bed and let’s go.”

“You’re insensitive,” Dutchy grumbled, burying his head into Specs’ chest.

“I spent all fucking night being sensitive,” Specs snapped, glaring down at the boy draped all over him, but doing nothing to move him.  “I’m ready for a break.”

“I’m ready for a break from being disowned,” Dutchy grunted back.

“Ugh! Dutchy!” Specs growled, finally shoving the other boy off him.  “You’re seriously getting on my fucking nerves. You aren’t disowned,” he snapped, rolling off his bed.  “I’m tired of fucking hearing about it. Jesus!” He crossed his arms and glared down at the other boy, now burying himself underneath the blankets and getting into the fetal position.  He sighed. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Chocolate chip waffles,” Dutchy muttered into his pillow.

Specs rolled his eyes.  “Fine. Get up and take a shower.  If you aren’t down by the time they’re done I’m eating them all myself,” he threatened.

Dutchy’s eyes widened as he flung himself out of bed.  “You can’t have my chocolate chip waffles!” he shouted as he sprinted to the bathroom.

* * *

 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Spot asked, frowning at the large group of boys that were doing jumping jacks in front of Race. 

“Training the new recruits,” Racetrack answered with a shrug.

“Yeah, but-” Spot started before his frown deepened.  He bit the inside of his cheek for several seconds before continuing.  “You didn’t wake me up,” he finally decided on saying.

Racetrack smiled at him, having no problem deciphering the hidden message.  “Sorry, Boss,” he replied, his eyes twinkling. “Wanted to get to school early today, so I had to get training started early.”  He leaned forward and swiftly kissed him on the cheek. “Promise I’ll make it up to you tomorrow?”

Spot glared at Racetrack for the kiss, but didn’t say anything.  He had yelled at him in the past for it, but it didn’t seem to change anything.  And it wasn’t like Spot hated the attention. He turned to glare at the recruits who had been staring at them, knowing he’d garner a better reaction out of them.  He wasn’t disappointed as everyone’’s eyes immediately shot to the ground, some even faltering and getting off sync with their jumping jacks. He turned back to Racetrack.  “It’s been weeks and all these assholes are still here.”

Racetrack frowned at him.  “You’re welcome?”

Spot rolled his eyes at him.  “That's not a good thing, you dumbass.  Usually half of them are gone by now because they can’t cut it.  You’re being too soft on them.”

“The _fuck_ he is,” Skittery shouted from the crowd, his panting giving away just how hard he was working to keep up.  

Spot whirled around as he picked him out of the crowd.  “You want me to rip your throat out? Then shut the fuck up, Skitts,” he said, not bothering to wait for a response before he turned back to Racetrack.

"We're not your normal pussy ass recruits," someone said at the front of the crowd.  His voice steady and clear despite the fact that he was doing jumping jacks faster than most of the people around him.  "We're Bronx boys. We're built of tougher stuff."

The guy was close enough to roundhouse kick if Spot leaned into it enough, so that's exactly what he did.  The guy fell back against the person who had been doing jumping jacks behind him, and the two of them fell onto the guy behind the second and so on until the person last in line finally fell on his back onto the concrete.  Spot turned to frown at Racetrack. "And they fucking talk back." He took two steps forward before crouching down next to the person he had kicked. "Think you're made of 'tougher stuff', do you now?" he asked in a snarl. "Think you're better than Brooklyn?  I destroyed the Bronx," Spot reminded him. "Because your boss was a piece of shit that conspired against me, even though we had a treaty. Because he wasn't able to get anywhere on strength alone. And he hung all of you out to dry the second I had him cornered.  So what, exactly, is it that makes you think the Bronx is something to be proud of?"

“We grew up with the Bronx, sir,” another recruit said quietly from Spot’s right.  “Surely loyalty isn’t considered a despicable trait here.”

Spot turned to glare at Racetrack.  “You’re terrible at this job,” he muttered before turning back to the recruit.  He punched him in the throat. “If you’re loyal to the Bronx you aren’t loyal to me.  And I find that _very_ despicable.  I’m not wasting my resources and training on a bunch of stupid fucks who don’t respect the gang that taught them.”

“We were taught by the Bronx,” a strong voice spoke from a few people back.  

Spot threw a rock at him.  He didn’t see who it hit, and no one dropped, which pissed him off more than he already was.  “The Bronx taught you how to be conniving cowards. I’m trying to teach you how to use your strength,” he growled.  He whirled onto Racetrack as he pointed to the crowd. “And now we have a gang fight inside _my_ fucking gang.  Because you didn’t have enough common sense to chase away the idiots.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was supposed to be _practiced_ at this,” Racetrack snapped back.  “It’s not my fucking fault you were thinking with your dick when you practically forced me into this job.”

Spot smirked at him.  “Racey-Boy, my dick’s the best part of me.”

“No one’s arguing with you there,” Racetrack replied with his own smirk.

* * *

 

Blink and Mush stood outside the front of the school, wearing identical frowns.  

“The person who drives shouldn’t _always_ have to pay for gas,” Blink said, “ _That’s_ all I’m saying.”

“I _hear_ what you’re saying,” Mush replied, “I just don’t think it’s that big of a deal.  It’s not like either of us is that far away. It’s the equivalent of maybe a dollar fifty.”

“Okay, first, either you’re purposely grossly underestimating the travel time or you have no idea what gas costs in the twenty first century,” Blink accused.  

“We live, like, not even five miles away from the school, Blink,” Mush pointed out.  

“Yeah, during morning traffic so it takes forever,” Blink replied.  “All the idling wastes gas too, you know.”

“You two finally arguing?” Skittery asked, his arm slung over Itey as he steered them both over to the other two boys.  

“It’s about damn time,” Itey said.  “All this honeymoon period shit was really starting to annoy me.”

“Mush won’t let me help pay for gas,” Blink explained, still glaring at his boyfriend.  “Despite the fact that he’s been driving us to school for the last several weeks, and I haven’t contributed anything.”

“You contribute plenty,” Mush replied.  “We’re a unit; I don’t need your money. You contribute other things.  You pay for the majority of our meals, for instance.”

“Oh my fucking Jesus,” Skittery muttered.  “ _This_ is the crap you two argue about?”

“Definitely still in their honeymoon period,” Itey answered back.  

“Fucking disgusting,” Skittery said, steering his boyfriend away from the bickering couple.

“It’s sick and sad,” Itey replied.  He threw a glare over his shoulder at the couple, allowing Skittery to steer him towards the school.

* * *

 

“Davey,” Bumlets greeted, walking up to the boy that was currently digging through his locker.  “You come to any decisions on your predicament yet?”

“Still just as lost as ever, I’m sorry to report,” David grumbled, surfacing from his locker to shove several books into his bookbag.  He sighed. “Guess I didn’t realize it’d be this hard to decide on something that seems so easy on paper.”

Bumlets smirked.  “You mean when all those emotional feelings aren’t getting in the way?”

“Precisely,” David answered, nodding.  

“Well, if it makes you feel any better it looks as if Dutchy’s having a blast right now,” Bumlets replied, nodding his head down the hall where Dutchy was leaning against Specs.  “Means he’ll probably be leaving you and Jack alone for a while.”

“That’s the least of my problems, honestly,” David admitted as he closed his locker.  “But thanks for trying.”

Bumlets hefted his backup a little higher on his shoulder.  “You wanna talk about it?”

“Haven’t we already?” David asked with a sigh.  “No use talking about the same things over and over again.  Nothing’s changed.”

“Well, aren’t you particularly morose this morning,” Bumlets replied with a smirk.  

David sighed.  “I’m just feeling a little hopeless, is all.”

Bumlets rose an eyebrow.  “Is that all?”

“In the grand scheme of things, it’s actually not that bad,” David relented before deflating again.  “It just doesn’t feel like it’s not that bad.”

This time it was Bumlets who sighed.  He squeezed David’s shoulder. “You’ll get through it,” he assured.  “In the meantime, let me know if there’s anything you need from me.”

David nodded, giving his friend a small smile.

* * *

 

“Swift,” Jack greeted as he came to lean on the locker next to his friends.  “How goes things? How’s your better half?” 

“Sarah?” Swifty asked, raising an eyebrow at Jack as he took the book he needed out of his locker.  “She’s really good. And, also, for the record, doesn’t talk to me about David, so-”

“Pft, what?” Jack replied, his eyes wide as he shook his head.  “I wasn’t asking to ask about David. I was genuinely concerned about how you two were doing.”

“Jack, I love you, man,” Swifty said, walking towards his first class as Jack followed him.  “But, for one, you don’t play subtle well. And, for two, you have never given a fuck about any of my relationships.  Which I’m totally cool with, but it is a really bad cover.”

“Alright, fine, I was asking about Sarah to ask about David,” Jack admitted quietly.  “Is he doing okay? He won’t return any of my phone calls.”

Swifty sighed.  “Jesus, Jack, did you expect him to?  You practically told him that you’d date him as long as you didn’t have to tell other people, and you got to date girls.  You can’t honestly tell me that you don’t see how that could be upsetting to someone.”

“I thought you said you and Sarah didn’t talk about Davey!” Jack replied, stepping in front of his friend and making him stop in the middle of the hallway.

Swifty rolled his eyes at his friend.  “We don’t. David and I talk about David.  And I’m sure he’d tell you the same thing he told me if you ever felt like growing some balls and asking him yourself.”

“Don’t act like you know what I’m going through,” Jack snapped as he glared at his friend.

“Oh, yeah?  And why not?” Swifty snapped back.  “You like David like I like Sarah, don’t you?  So why can’t I act like it’s the same thing? Because you’re both dudes?  I never pegged you as homophobic before.”

“That’s because I’m not!”

“Then stop fucking acting like it!”

“You guys doing okay?” Mush asked, walking up to the two boys as he held onto his boyfriend’s hand.

“Don’t see how it’s any business of yours,” Jack growled, turning to glare at both of them.  

“I don’t see how we can ignore it seeing as you’re standing in the middle of the hall and shouting at each other,” Blink replied, moving to stand in front of Mush.  

“We’re just concerned is all,” Mush said, putting a hand on Blink’s shoulder and instantly relaxing him.  “It sounds like you and David are going through some problems. We’d like to help if there’s anything we can do.”

“How- how the hell do you know about me and David?” Jack asked, his eyes wide as he looked between the two boys.

“Does the phrase ‘standing in the middle of the hall and shouting at each other’ ring any bells for you?” Blink asked, rolling his eye.  

“It was a private conversation!” Jack shouted.

“If you shout it’s no longer private!” Blink snapped.  “It looks like you could use some help. What the hell were you thinking telling David something like that?  You two are supposed to be best friends.”

“Don’t act like you know what I’m going through!” Jack shouted back.  “Your relationship is all sunshine and roses! You two make me sick!” he declared before stomping off.

Blink and Mush looked at each other and shrugged before looking back at Swifty.  

Swifty shrugged back.  “You two are kinda weird.”

* * *

 

“Oh, my god, and we slept in the same bed last night, which was just unbelievably magical!” Dutchy gushed before spinning in a circle.  “And he made me breakfast. And he’s been walking me to all my classes. I think we’re really going out, you guys!” 

“Dutchy,” Itey started, rubbing at his eyes.

“Are you for real bragging to us about getting kicked out of your house?” Skittery asked, frowning at him.

“You know Specs isn’t going to let you live with him forever, right?” Itey asked.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going to go after that, you idiot?” Skittery said.  “Just what the hell are you thinking?”

“Go back to your parents and apologize, you idiot,” Itey demanded.  

“Stop trying to ruin my good time!” Dutchy snapped.  “You’re just jealous that I have a man I love and you two don’t!”

Itey and Skittery looked at each other before Skittery shrugged.  “I’m just letting that one go,” he explained to Itey. “It’s not worth the effort.”

“What isn’t worth the effort is explaining to you two that this is real, and it’s happening,” Dutchy replied.  “I don’t understand why you guys always want to ruin my good time.”

“Weren’t you crying fucking yesterday when Specs ran away because you took off your pants in front of him?” Skittery pointed out.  “And now you’re going out, and he’s going to take care of you, and you’re spending the rest of your lives together? Explain to me how that makes sense.”

“Specs is going to figure everything out for us!” Dutchy yelled, before turning around and running away.  “You just wait! He’s going to fix everything for me!”

Itey rolled his eyes at Dutchy’s retreating back.  “Poor bastard doesn’t even realize he doesn’t live in reality.”

* * *

 

“You just wait; I’m going to fix everything!” Specs declared to David as they sat done together at lunch.   

David sighed before setting down his lunch tray and looking over at his friend.  “Explain to me, exactly, how you plan on doing that. You know your parents aren’t going to let Dutchy stay with you.  And last time I checked, you were still declaring your straightness.”

“I am straight,” Specs snapped.  “I’m just making an exception for Dutchy,” he explained before pulling out his phone.  “I’ve been looking at job postings on Craigslist,” he announced, showing David the link.  “I’ll be eighteen in less than a month. Figured I could get a part time job and a cheap apartment and Dutchy and I can just live together.”

David blinked at his friend.  “This is quite a turn around from refusing to be with him unless he let you date girls.”

Specs shrugged.  “He needs me.”

“Specs, if you’re doing this out of some sense of obligation that’s not healthy either,” David replied.  “And I really don’t think that Dutchy would appreciate it.”

“Are you kidding me?  He’d love knowing I’m doing all this for him,” Specs said, standing up and grabbing his backpack.  “And my parents might even give in once they realize I’m willing to drop out of high school in order to work a full time job.”

David jumped out of his seat, his eyes wide.  “You can’t possibly be serious about that! Who’s going to hire you with no high school degree?  And what about college? I thought …”

“I’ll figure out all that stuff later,” Specs replied, hitching his backpack on his shoulder.  “There’s no way I’m going to be able to afford even a studio apartment for me and Dutchy on just a part time job.”

“You’d be able to afford a studio just fine with both of you working part time after school,” David argued.  “And then you could both get your degree.”

Specs snorted.  “I’m not letting any girl of mine work.”  He frowned. “Even if my girl is actually a boy,” he corrected.

“But-”

“This is what I’ve decided to do, Davey,” Specs interrupted.  “I’m not stupid. I know all the hardships something like this entails.  But Dutchy needs me, and I want to help him, so I’m going to. End of story,” he said before turning and walking out of the cafetaria.

“Well, that was dramatic,” Bumlets said, coming up from behind David to watch Specs walk out of the cafeteria.

“Told you he loved me!” Dutchy gushed from Bumlets’ side.  He plopped his tray on the table before running after his new boyfriend.

* * *

 

“Mush, do you think we’re boring?” Blink asked, holding on to his boyfriend’s hand as he walked him to class. 

Mush shrugged.  “I don’t think so, but I guess it depends on how you measure it.  Are we boring if we don’t ever fight with each other?”

“Maybe,” Blink answered, biting the inside of his cheek.  “I guess it’s not fighting, per se. It just seems like everyone else has all these problems to get through and we,” he shrugged, “don’t.”

“You think it’s a problem that we don’t fight enough?” Mush asked, looking worriedly over at his boyfriend.

“Well, no, not personally,” Blink admitted, “But I can’t help but notice that the others seem to think so.  And, on some level, isn’t it unhealthy to never fight?”

“It is if you’re keeping something in because you’re trying to avoid a fight,” Mush replied slowly.  “Is there something that you want to talk about, Blink? Because I promise not to be mad.”

Blink shook his head.  “No, nothing like that.  I guess I was just worried about you.  Like, if there was anything you were keeping in that you were afraid to tell me about.”

Mush shook his head.  “Nope, I’m very happy.  As long as I have you I’ll always be happy.”

Blink smiled before kissing his boyfriend on the cheek.  “Love you, Mush.”

Mush smiled back.  “Love you too, Blink.”

“Those two are so cute together I want to gag,” Skittery told Itey from where they watched them across the parking lot.  

Itey rolled his eyes.  “It makes me want to throw up,” he agreed.

TBC

**Author's Note:**

> So, what is this? About a year later? Do fans of this story even still exist? Let me know by leaving a comment or kudos. 
> 
> As long as this story doesn't get away from me it should only be seven chapters. Have most of it already planned out in the hopes that it doesn't take me another year to finish. That being said, I make no promises. (Sorry!!) Sometimes life gets away from me and it takes me awhile to find my way back here.


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